Now Turn North
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Set after Nature Versus Nurture and Warriors. It's the Fourth of July in Austin, Texas. But fireworks and the Texas heat aren't the only things running hot. James and Jack must come to an understanding about where they stand in Mac's life. Mac must decide whether his father has a place at all.
1. Chapter 1

Now Turn North

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: This story follows my stories Nature versus Nurture and Warriors. It is not completely necessary to have read those but this will probably make more sense if you do. Also, it is slightly AU in that I created a bit of back story for Jack. That can be found in my story Unexpected Detours. Thanks to Mary, who corrected mistakes and made this so much better.

RcJ

"You have made your way around this hill country long enough, now turn North." –Deuteronomy 2: 3

James MacGyver was not sure what to expect. He'd read intel about the Narrow Path Ranch in Austin Texas, having thoroughly researched Jack Dalton's family before agreeing to Matty's suggestion that he choose the former Delta Force Operator for the job of Overwatch for Angus. James had studied satellite imagery of the home place, compiled dossiers on its occupants in more depth when he learned his son had gone there for an extended stay after returning from Afghanistan. It was the typical research he performed before sending his agents' on missions. Angus had returned many times over the years during his work at DXS and currently Phoenix. Now that James was making his way down the meandering path lined with friendly full-leafed oaks and bordered by a rustic split rail fence he could see, although somewhat begrudgingly, the allure of such a retreat.

A break in the tree line gave way to a rambling giant of a three story pale yellow house with white shutters that sat stately in a clearing in the distance. The wide wrap around porch with its wooden rockers and generous swing spoke to southern summer nights and even though he was in Texas and not Georgia or South Carolina, James couldn't help but to envision it in its prime as something from a grand plantation.

As he drew closer his imagery of dandy gentlemen and courtly bells was slightly skewed by the big Ford truck pulled in the drive, mud splattered and attached to the largest, luxury horse trailer James had encountered. When he stopped the car and a portly pig wearing what looked like a Dallas Cowboy's jersey tightly stretched over its ample girth waddled towards his rental, he concluded the scene was decidedly more Louis L'Amour western than sweeping Gone With the Wind saga. After all, his welcoming party was far from Scarlet O'hara baring Mint Juleps on the veranda. Instead, JP Dalton was the single occupant on the porch, sitting on the wide steps, a menacing shotgun resting across his lap, a big sweating Mason jar of what might have been sweet tea gripped in his hand.

James tightened his grip on the steering wheel, peering at the patriarch of Narrow Path through his dust covered windshield. He recognized him of course from the file he'd composed. Thick crop of silver streaked hair, worn longer and unkempt in a style Angus had adopted lately. He had a mustache and a goatee that lent a Sam Elliot air to him. The black Stetson and worn cowboy boots completed the picture.

Before James could change his mind about accepting the invitation to join his son at the ranch for the Fourth of July and slowly back out of the drive, JP stood, cradling his gun in one arm, as he lifted a hand in greeting, acknowledging the visitor's presence. It was too late to make a hasty retreat. Once again, James considered the wisdom of making the trip to Austin, but solidified his decision and exited the car, grapping his bag from the backseat. As JP descended the stairs, James noted that Jack Dalton shared his grandfather's build, as well as his looks. Tall, lean and sturdy, the older man did not look over seventy, but hearty and capable. Simultaneously appealing and quietly menacing, like the leading men of the westerns both Daltons probably idolized.

The wall of heat that hit James when he exited added to his list of reasons to just head on back to LA and work through the holiday. It was only mid-morning but had to be in the eighties already. It was harsher and far more oppressive than the fair-weather of the west coast. Sweat dotted his forehead, had his shirt sticking to his back. The grunting and snorting, followed by a sudden pressure on his feet was enough to have him forgetting the beating sun and breaking eye contact with his host to look down. He found the unusual pig greeter thoroughly investigating his shoes.

"Get on out of there, Dodger," JP admonished as he strode towards James. His voice was commanding, broke no room for compromise. "Go on. Git."

James briefly wondered if the tall Texan might have been referring to him, some kind of Southern entreaty to move along before buckshot became involved. He considered the wisdom of not returning promptly to his car, but when James met his gaze, the older man offered a hint of a smile.

"You'll have to excuse Dodger. That pig has no damn mind of personal space. He'll have his snout stuck in a man's crotch like he's rooting out truffles for dinner if you're not careful."

James took a wary step back, holding his bag in front of him, though he imagined JP was teasing him just a bit. Dodger grunted happily as if he was in on the joke, but moved away from the newcomer. "He's wearing a Cowboy's jersey."

James wasn't sure why those were the first words out of his mouth, instantly cursing his inability for finesse with small talk, but JP laughed again.

"Of course he is, son. You're in God's country. Texas. Did you think he'd be stupid enough to support the Steelers when most days he's one step shy of being on my wife's bad side and thus close to being prominently featured on the breakfast menu. Ol' Roger Dodger is many things, but lacking in wiliness in not one of them." This time JP's smile showed perfect white teeth. "He's smart enough to dig up Beth's flowers and frame the dogs for the offense."

"Pigs have the intelligence of a human toddler."

JP scratched his chin, nodded, eyes briefly going to the pig. "You must be Angus's daddy. James is it?"

James ducked his head, frustrated that he was even slightly nervous in front of this horse rancher when he was quite capable of holding conversation with heads of state and was in fact held in high regard by some of the most powerful men in the world. He called forth his practiced smile, placed his bag on the ground and extended his hand. He felt beads of sweat trickle down his neck as JP studied him with his steel gray gaze. "Yes. Excuse my manners. I'm James MacGyver. Angus's father."

JP finally accepted his hand with a firm grip, his eyes never leaving James's. "We were expecting you later this afternoon, James."

"I got an earlier flight." James returned the tight grip, leaving out the fact he'd purposively arranged for one, the habit of liking to always be one step ahead hard to break, especially when he felt like he was entering hostile territory. "I hope that's okay." He let go of JP's hand, gesturing to the rifle the older man was still cradling. "And that the fact you weren't expecting me, means that's not meant for me."

JP didn't laugh like before, but instead maintained that easy smile James had witnessed so often when Jack Dalton was presenting his good old country boy reuse to hide the fact he was so much more than what one might gather from first appearances. He shrugged. "Nah, this here is mostly for show. Mostly. My great granddaughter is bringing some beau home with her for the first time and I want to make sure the fox is clear on who's guarding the henhouse if you know what I mean."

James wasn't exactly keen on what the man meant, but he gathered he was referring to Riley Davis and her latest love interest. He recalled Jack had dated Riley's mother when she was a child. "I bet you're talking about Billy Colton." James breathed some easier, recalling the fact that Riley and Bozer would be arriving later with their respective partners. It was one of the reasons he'd come earlier, hoping for some time alone with Angus before the rest of his son's team arrived and he had even more reason to avoid any interaction. "If it makes you feel better, I did thorough background checks on him and his family when they first worked a joint venture with our foundation. He seems to be an upstanding young man."

"Wyatt said as much." JP glanced to the gun, sliding fingers down the shiny barrel. "Which is why this is filled with rock salt. Pellets sting like hell, but they're not deadly." He then returned his gaze to James. "I keep my favorite sidearm for the genuine bad guys."

The insinuation was not veiled. Gone was the good-natured smile. JP's gaze glinted like steel and James would have sworn the temperature plummeted when Dalton's jaw clenched. He wasn't surprised. Matty had warned him he very well might end up planted in the back forty before the trip was over even as she encouraged him in her not so sweet way to put his big boy pants on and accept the invitation any damn way. Admittedly, their relationship was a complicated one, but as usual he found himself wanting to be the man she believed him to be. He cleared his throat.

"This is a beautiful place you have here, Mr. Dalton." James looked out over the rolling hills beyond them, effectively changing the subject. His gaze landed on the three horses that had made their way closer to the fence line not far from them.

"Call me JP," Dalton finally said, offering what seemed like a fragile truce. "Mr. Dalton was my daddy."

"Was this his ranch?" James chanced another glance at the older man, knowing that JP's father had no link to the equine empire his son had built.

"Hell no." JP looked riled again but James no longer felt his life was in any imminent danger now that they were onto another topic, although wayward fathers might not have been the best option. "The old stubborn bastard never even saw this spread. He was a railroad man. Just like his daddy. Thought all his boys should have followed in his footsteps and stayed to the rails, although my sweet momma had her eye on me for the one priest in the family. He wasn't brave enough to buck up against her, all her Catholic saints, and her iron skillet, but he wasn't one to give his son a consideration."

"Still, you made a go of it. Sometimes we have reasons for going against the grain of things." James hoped his point was subtle as he once more swept a gaze over the open fields. "You had enough fortitude to build something that will survive long after you."

"What I had was an unshakeable affinity for horses, and not the damn kind that powered a train engine." JP nodded to the big animals now nickering to them. Another kind of smile twitched around his big mustache. "And a consuming passion for a certain brown-eyed southern beauty whose pleasing figure and southern drawl made me lose all the little common sense any eighteen-year-old boy was ever graced with in the first place. I bought this ranch in part to woo her."

"So the Narrow Path is a love story?" James hadn't really considered it before, mostly because he wasn't exactly the romantic kind, but the same could be said of DXS-Phoenix. It had literally risen from the ashes of his relationship with his late wife. Of course he'd thrown himself into the re-imagining of the organization only after he'd lost her. It was part survival strategy, but also an attempt to somehow make her proud of him. His eyes met JP's. "It's your legacy."

"It's true I love this ranch." JP watched him for a long moment and James began to worry for his safety once more, although he wasn't quite certain of his misstep. JP let his gaze go to the horses, inclining his head for James to follow him as he began to walk towards the fence line. "But my legacy has nothing to do with the land, barns, or even the stock. What I'm leaving behind is Wyatt, and your boy, Angus, too."

"Angus isn't your family." James knew he'd said the wrong thing the moment the proclamation left his lips when he noted JP's posture go rigid. Even though the statement hadn't been heated, and instead offered in a polite, casual tone, James realized he'd struck an unwelcomed chord. Considering Dalton seemed to be eluding to the fact that James's son somehow belonged here among the hills of Texas instead of at Phoenix, at James's side, James thought he was generous with the decorum he managed. The look JP shot him said he didn't feel the same way in the least. In fact, James breathed better when JP put down the shotgun, propping it against one of the rails. He watched as the older man leaned his elbows on the top of the fence as two horses drew closer. James cleared his throat. "Look, I really appreciate all your grandson has done for Angus, but…"

"This is Treaty," JP cut James's narrative off with his proud pronouncement. The interruption kept MacGyver from repeating the spiel he often ran through his head. Given the chance he would have pointed out that Jack had indeed protected Angus in the war, spent years keeping him safe. That of course gave him consideration and leeway to some extent for sure. But it did not give Dalton the right to carry on like he had ties to Angus that weren't in fact true. Surely, JP Dalton could see that.

"She's an Appendix," JP continued on as if James had never tried to speak. "Meaning she's first generation offspring from a Thoroughbred and a Quarter horse." His gaze softened as the horse drew close enough to touch. "Treaty here is what Narrow Path is known for. I decided to raise Appendix after Beth and I got married, as sort of a symbol I guess. Thoroughbreds are refined and gracious, Ouarter horses hard-working, with a muscular substance."

While JP was speaking the horse in question dropped her head over the top rail, blowing and snorting. James could admit she was pretty, the color of sand, except for the tops of her ears and her four feet which were black. JP gave him a rueful glance as he rubbed a hand over her broad head. "Don't ask my wife which one of us is the hardworking one with substance." Dalton turned his gaze back to the horses. "In the Appendix breed, the result is a perfect combination. They tend to be steady, with even dispositions, but are highly competitive, some of them downright fiery. Those are the ones born to race. Come to think of it now, Appendix put me in the mind of Angus and Wyatt."

"On the surface, they seem an unlikely mix," James said vaguely. For all JP knew he could have been commenting on the horses or the men in question. It was ironic that James had done a bit of unusual crossbreeding of his own when he'd thrown Jack and Angus together. As much as it galled him to admit at times, it had been a more than successful venture.

"Treaty's daddy was the grandson of the first Thoroughbred I ever owned. A dark bay, named September Sunrise reputed to have been in Native Dancer's lineage. Boy, he was something." JP continued to scratch Treaty behind one ear, though his gaze went to the fields beyond. "That horse cost me my life savings- blood, sweat and tears from years of back-breaking work bronc busting in Mexico. But he gave me the start I needed when as a two-year-old he was undefeated in his seven starts. People were willing to pay big money for his foals. Still are as his prodigy have always been winners, one even taking the Roses a few years back."

JP suddenly turned to James. "That means Treaty here is a direct physical link to the dream that started all this. I know you probably don't realize, but that practically makes her royalty in these parts, and in the Kentucky racing circuit as well."

"Admittedly, I've never even seen a horse race," James conceded, not sure where the rancher was going.

JP kept one hand on Treaty's head, as he cut his gaze to James. This time his green/gray eyes lingered. "Angus helped deliver her the first time he stayed here with us when he was more boy than man, fresh from a war that mangles bodies and scars souls. I gave her to him before she even hit the hay, or took her first wobbly step."

"She belongs to Angus?" James frowned, not understanding why a man, even an old sentimental one, would give a practical stranger at that point a gift that was probably worth possibly tens of thousands of dollars. He looked from JP to Treaty and then back.

"She loves him." JP nodded, as if that brought everything into perfect clarity. "He loves her. I reckon that pretty much is the definition of belonging."

"Things aren't always so simple." James had a feeling JP once again was trying to make a point. "Or as clear-cut."

"That there is Raucus."JP had a frustrating way of not acknowledging when James spoke. Instead he pointed to one of the other horses, the one that hadn't quite come all the way to the fence. The big golden horse with the blond mane was grazing, but lifted its head now and again to regard them, or likely to eyeball James as the stranger in his pasture. "Wyatt's horse. Part Arabian, part who the hell knows. Definitely not purebred as the salesman tried to claim. Arabians don't carry dilution genes like the distinct palomino color, but Jack still paid the sticker price when Raucus was the last one standing on the auction block. Claimed he reminded him of Roy Roger's horse Trigger, but I just think he just felt bad for the old boy. Beautiful animal, but stubborn as all get out."

"Jack seems to like the underdogs." James thought to comment he could actually see Jack astride a mule, as he'd come to realize his top agent shared a temperament with the obstinate beasts but figured insulting JP Dalton's grandson while the man's shotgun was still in reach was probably a poor idea.

"That he does, but Raucus is a far cry from the first horse Jack called his own."

"Damascus," James commented without much thought, the name easily pulled from the files of his immense memory, slipping out before James could wisely consider the implications of him knowing such a personal fact.

JP looked surprised and rightfully so. "He told you about Damascus?"

James realized the man had every right to be disbelieving. For all Jack's talking, he was selective on the words that actually meant something, ones that could reveal real weaknesses or soft spots. Those were reserved for the ones closest to him. Damascus was after all a story Jack Dalton would not have shared with many, Angus certainly, but most definitely not James MacGyver. JP would also realize, knowing James's son so well, that the boy would never have betrayed his partner's confidence, even to his father, especially to his father.

"I must have heard the name in passing." James waved off the slip with another smile, silently bemoaning his careless misstep. In actuality James had read about Damascus in Dalton's psych files, an intrusion, but one he deemed necessary considering he was at the time considering placing his nineteen-year-old son's life in the man's hands.

JP's brow raised marginally, and his gray eyes narrowed. James had to wonder just how much the man in front of him knew about the true nature of Phoenix and his relationship with Jack, although Angus had warned him that neither of Jack's grandparents were aware of their real work.

"Jack was always one to bring strays home. Dogs. Kittens, claiming them for his own," James said, finally. He leaned against the railing behind him, as Treaty bowed her head and started picking at the taller grass by the fence posts. He kept his eyes on James but James imagined he was looking through him, into a past he shared with his grandson.

"There was an incident with a skunk, and one time he hid a baby raccoon in his room all summer long, that was until it took to swiping Beth's best earrings and her silver. When I confronted him about bringing a wild animal in, he swore to me that it had been left by its momma. That it needed someone to take care of it. It didn't surprise me none. Wyatt wasn't much more than a tyke when he somehow decided to be the champion of any unwanted thing." The words held an undeniable fondness, but JP's eyes remained guarded.

"Angus has never been unwanted." James hadn't realized he'd placed his hands on the fence in front of him until his grip tightened painfully on the wood. His voice had been sharper than he meant, far from the air of cordiality he was trying to maintain. Both horses were now staring at him as if reevaluating his presence. He took a breath to regain his control, but noticed that JP seemed unaffected by his snipe.

"I hope that's true," JP straightened to his full height and James realized that the gun might have been for Billy Colton, but the rancher was just as intent on making sure James was also well aware of who was minding the home place, and what any trespasser might have in store. "But you need to realize that's not how my boy saw it. Wyatt saw a kid in need of someone to watch out for him, and he's moved mountains to make sure to fulfill that role. Angus might not be blood, but he belongs here just the same. You sweeping back into the picture doesn't change anything."

"No disrespect, Mr. Dalton, but I'm not sure how Jack's tendency to bring home abandoned and abused animals due to his own mommy issues or life gaps has anything to do with my son." James didn't even care that he was giving away the fact that he indeed understood more about Damascus and Jack's private life than he should have ever known, instead too bent on getting his own point across. He'd delivered the decree with calm detachment, knowing he'd still stepped on the man's toes by committing the offense he'd held back on doing earlier and insulting Jack.

JP ran a hand down his goatee, his voice as cool and level as James's had been. "When it's in Wyatt's nature-one, mind you, that has _nothing_ to do with anything he's lacking, and everything to do with his generous abundance of heart-to lay claim to the ones he thinks no one cares for, the ones he knows have been wronged by those who should have protected and loved them, then I think it has everything to do with Angus, as well as a whole hell of a lot to do with you, James MacGyver. Whatever your damn reasoning, you left that boy to fend for himself."

James found himself unable to grasp the proper response, at least one that didn't have him sputtering like a mad man in response to the wily rancher clearly calling his character into question when they'd barely known each other for mere minutes. He watched a bit dumbfounded and indignant as JP removed his cowboy hat and began working the rim of the Stetson with his roughened hands. He seemed more than content to let the loaded accusation settle between them as palpable and corporeal as Dodger the pig, whom had plopped his round body on the ground at their feet with a contented grunt.

Dalton appeared completely unruffled on the surface, in complete control of his reputable temper, but James had been in situations with dangerous men enough to read the undercurrent of tension, to recognize just how thin the ice was that he was currently treading. He learned quickly that Jack Dalton for instance was at his most deadly when he grew quiet and still, when the charming southern prattling had dried up and the good-natured smile had been put away. The surprising thing was that James suddenly found he didn't care who he was talking to, or that he wanted to make a good impression on this man whom he knew good and well that his son held in the highest regard. He was no longer willing to heed Matty's warning about the back forty. Certainly, he wouldn't be in the running for father of the year anytime soon, but he had grown weary of having his shortcomings pointed out.

"When Wyatt rescued Damascus and brought him home," JP continued before James could compose himself or fire off the response he was still drafting from his raging thoughts. He droned on as if he were still relating interesting facts about his beloved ranch, instead of tossing proverbial stones in a minefield. His eyes stayed focused on the band he was working. "I paid that bastard of a rancher who'd owned him and hurt him a ridiculous amount of money to let go of any claims he'd long ago forfeited to the animal, as well as any attempts to blame my grandson for taking something from him he lost rights to all on his own. Maybe that's part of the story you haven't heard in passing conversation, but one you should take heed, or as Beth likes to say put a pin in."

James was certain he'd heard wrong. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Surely you aren't actually about to offer me money for my son, some kind of pay off so I'll step aside and let Jack Dalton go on playing at being a surrogate daddy to my kid?" He could feel his face heating up, his heart racing. His temper once good and stirred was dark, and primal, not at all a made up reason he'd listed for bowing out of Mac's life. The oppressive heat and sun beating down on him wasn't helping.

In the back of his mind, of course he realized JP Dalton had made no such insulting overture-yet- that a proposition of that nature was out of character from what he knew of the man. His rational intellect told him of course that it was quite possibly his own insecurities were merely rearing their ugly head, lending him a skewed perspective. He couldn't stop himself. James glared at JP. "Before you embarrass yourself, may I suggest you look up Elwood Davis, offer him such a deal, because from what I understand he might be desperate and sleezy enough to accept. I on the other hand, am not."

JP's gaze snapped from the hat in his hands to lock with James's dark eyes. His thick mustache twitched, but he seemed to wrangle his temper with ease as the words slipped out like warmed honey. "I'm not offering you a damn thing, MacGyver, except for maybe a little taste of the beat down I also gave old Damascus's owner before I paid him one red cent." The threat was somehow more intense for the careful way it was offered. The old man actually chuckled.

"Hell, I didn't become insanely wealthy by being a poor business man. Why pay for something my boy, Wyatt, has already earned lock, stock and barrel for himself? He spent years," JP poked a finger at James's chest, and for the first time his voice betrayed his ferocity. " _Years_ -taking care of your son, giving him the shelter he needed to navigate his way into manhood. And a fine man he's become, as much Dalton as MacGyver, mind you. Maybe it's _you_ that needs to look up that snake in the grass Elwood and have a beer to commiserate. While you're at it you two should make a toast to Jack Dalton for doing your damn jobs."

James opened his mouth, but words failed him. In a blinding moment of truth, he realized he had no defense, and any justification or denial would have been pathetic. As pathetic as arguing with a seventy-five year old man who'd been nothing but generous to James's son. For once in his life, he wisely closed his mouth.

"Further more, Riley and Angus love Wyatt," JP picked up the slack, not waiting for the younger man to forget himself again. "He loves them. Remember what I told you about belonging? My grandson has more claim as father to both those children than either of you lowdown sonsofbitches, biology be damned. A decent stud can breed three times a day. That don't make him a daddy. Angus is Wyatt's family, and by that right, he's mine. You might as well know now,right from the start so there's no misunderstandings later, that there isn't anything I won't do for family."

"Are you threatening me?" The cliché fell from James lips and he was embarrassed when JP snorted, obviously expecting more and actually embarrassed for James as well.

"I'm just giving you fair warning, James."

"Then maybe I should return in kind by telling you that I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. I made a mistake walking away from Angus before. It's not one I'm going to repeat."

"That's good to hear." JP ran a hand through his hair before sitting his hat back on his head. He tipped the brim at James, actually smiled. "You might as well stick around a while now that we've cleared the air. I'd hate to have wasted my time for nothing."

"You don't want me to go?" James was confounded, tempted to look around to see if there was some hidden camera or if Matty had planted a mic on him to eavesdrop just so she could yell 'Gotch'a'.

"I don't see that it makes one lick of difference what I want. Beth asked you here. She sure as hell don't let me chime in before she starts handing out invitations, though if I were you I'd mind any baked goods she offers to you and you alone." The old man's mustache twitched again and he blew out a huff of air. "More importantly, Angus wants you here. This is his home, and I'm not about to ask his daddy to leave, especially after he fretted about whether or not to ask you for so long and I actually encouraged him to do it."

"Even if you'd prefer he hadn't." James frowned, puzzled by the fact he found himself not as insulted as he should have been, but actually feeling inclined to be grateful to JP for letting him stay on, for apparently prompting Angus to extend the invite.

"Even if I fear it's not exactly in _his_ best interest," JP clarified. "I can take care of my own damned self. It's Angus I'm worried about. Wyatt, too."

"I'm not here to hurt Angus. Or Jack." James was sincere and it became very important to him in that moment that JP actually take his promise for honest to goodness truth. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I've only tried to do what I thought was right, what was best for my son. I've messed up, but I want another chance."

James wasn't sure if the old man would have said more, maybe called him on the cheap rhetoric, but the door of the house opened with a loud creak, drawing both of their immediate attentions and saving James any such rebuke. Angus stepped out, followed by two dogs that waggled and weaved around his long jean clad legs. Dodger perked up, getting to his feet with a loud grunt. Moving quicker than James would have thought possible and even scrambling up the steps with impressive agility, the pig made his way over to the boy, bantering for a share of the attention as Angus covered his surprise at seeing his father, by bending over to pet the delighted pig.

"Look what the dogs dragged in, boy," JP called to him, happily, nodding to James as Angus seemed to gather himself and make his way down the stairs, trailed by the menagerie of animals. "I've been introducing your daddy to Treaty."

"Introductions are what you've been up to out here all this time?" Angus kept his gaze locked on JP as he approached, his smile full of affection even as he raised a brow, obviously suspecting there was more to their delay. James couldn't help but to take note that his son looked happier than he'd seen him since the incident in Peru and the disastrous events of Memorial Day, although a bit odd in the Texas getup which included his own pair of broken in cowboy boots, a faded Cowboys tee, and a dusty Stetson that surprisingly suited him.

"James, this is Lilly and Switzer," JP nodded to the approaching Labradors. "Two of the finest hunting dogs never to have run the trail of one damn thing. The only thing they do chase are their tails and a patch of cool shade on hot summer days like this. The closest they've come to a duck is when Beth decided she'd whip up some fancy French dish for my last birthday thanks to a recipe Bozer sent her on _The_ Facebook and I slipped them my portion of the confounded _Confit_ , when I figured out it wasn't anything like fried chicken." The old rancher made a point of gesturing to each Labrador as they greeted James with great affection, tails wagging. Never mind JP was pointing out their failures as sporting dogs, they pranced and preened as if they were being praised and had known James forever and were overcome by joy with his long overdue reappearance. Their bodies quivered with barely restrained pleasure and James suspected as he ran a hand over their heads to appease them, that it would likely be the one truly sincere welcome he might receive.

"See, I'm good at it, if not a tad long-winded," JP concluded when Lilly and Switzer moved back to Angus's side, framing him like matching canine bookends. "You know I had to tell James about Treaty's daddy, and his daddy before that. It led to a philosophical discussion about family which explains our delay in greeting the lady of the hourse."

"And here Nana Beth sent me out in fear you'd be holding a gun on Billy Colton." Angus eyed the shotgun still propped by the fence before returning his gaze to JP. He bumped the rim of his hat back. "We thought Jack was back from the airport when the dogs started up a while ago after hearing a car."

"Now that woman understands I have the manners of fine-bred southern gentleman." JP rocked back on his heels, his mustache twitching as he seemed to fight back a grin. "She should know better than sending a pup out to check up on me, a grown man quite capable of handling himself in such a way as not to bring scorn and shame upon the family name."

"Funny but when I said the same thing, she pointed out that you have often proven yourself to have the etiquette of a gunslinger itching for a showdown, and I quote 'the exasperating nature of a lactating wolverine defending its den of newborn from predators," Angus's grin widened, "Apparently just like your grandson."

"Which one?" JP snorted, not bothering to deny the unflattering comparisons. Instead, he reached up and gripped Angus's neck giving him a slight shake. James recognized the ease at which the two interacted, the way his son leaned into the other man's touch and didn't tense or shy away. He also noticed the ace bandage wrapped around Angus's wrist when he went to playfully knock Dalton's hand away as it went to ruffle his hair in a classic move he'd seen Jack pull. It was easier to focus on his son's injury, instead of the sudden wounding to his pride and the flash of envy he couldn't deny.

"What happened to your arm?" James asked, ignoring the pang of jealousy but once more kicking himself for the awkward first words.

"That would be Jack." Angus gave a pointed look to JP, answering him first about the grandson in question before swinging his gaze to James, who tried not to read too much into it when the boy's smile faltered, fading marginally as his blue eyes hardened. He lifted his hand. "I took a little spill this morning."

"Treaty tossed him in the lake for an unexpected swim when he wasn't paying attention." JP's eyes twinkled with mirth. "Just like a woman to enjoy catching a man with his thoughts and hands where they shouldn't be."

"I was paying attention," Angus defended with what James could tell was feigned exasperation. He stepped past JP to greet his horse who was tossing her head about as if agreeing with her owner's explanation. "I told you there was a rattle snake sunning on a rock. It had nothing to do with how I was gripping the reigns, but if my riding skills were in question," He glanced over his shoulder at Dalton and the easy humor returned to his face, "it just might be your fault I ended up in the lake as you taught me most of what I know."

"I once took you horseback riding when you were nine." James wasn't exactly certain of the age, but he clearly remembered his small son being afraid to get on the horse and him having to explain why it was important for a man to face his fears head on. He squared his shoulders, forcing a smile when both Angus and JP shot him twin looks of incredulity.

"That was a pony at a fair." Angus frowned at his father, his humor fading once more. "It bit me. Twice."

"That would explain a little of why it took me and Wyatt so long to convince him to sit astride a horse," JP glanced from James to Angus, scratching his chin. "Ponies are notorious for biting."

"Lucky thing we can't say the same about rattle snakes in these parts," James countered lightly, trying hard not to match his son's defensive posture or let his impatience show. He was already weary of having the fact he'd missed a lifetime rubbed in his face, but he'd also promised himself he'd take whatever Angus dished out if it meant another chance to make a mends, so he forced a smile to show that he was joking instead of being entirely sarcastic. He tilted his head to study the injured appendage closer. "Where was Jack when all this happened?"

Angus's frown deepened, his gaze narrowing into a familiar warning that his father was treading closely on sacred ground and should step wisely. "Jack was behind me, him and Raucus eating our dust. Right, Treaty, girl?" Angus returned his attention to the horse, Treaty butting her head against Mac's shoulder. Surprisingly Dalton's horse trotted over as well. "We won the race and the right not to have to do any chores today. It was worth the early morning swim. Jack is handling feeding on his own tonight."

"I don't think Raucus like's the competition gloating, son." JP chuckled when Jack's horse whinnied but James wasn't understanding how the situation was one bit humorous.

"You could have been killed."

"That's never seemed to be a priority concern for you before now." Mac's voice went completely cold. He took his hat off, plopped it on the fence post as he ran his hands through his hair in a familiar gesture that spoke to his growing frustration.

"On that note, I better mosey on along and see if Beth needs me underfoot in the kitchen." JP reclaimed his shotgun and nodded to James. "I'll take your bag on in the house as I go."

"That's not necessary…" James started only to have the older man wave his protest away.

"It is if I don't want to sleep with the damn pig tonight. Trust me, for all the flowers he eats, Dodger is no bed of roses."

Dodger grunted as if unlike his canine companions he might have understood when he was being insulted. Still, he hefted himself up from the dirt and came, along with the dogs, albeit a bit more reluctantly, when JP called for them to accompany him into the house.

"I'm sorry," James said quietly when he and his son were alone. He raked a hand through his hair, sighing that once again he'd gotten off on the wrong foot. "I didn't mean to start an argument. Can we maybe just start this visit over?"

"You did come all this way." Angus eyed him, a look somewhere between suspicious and confused battling for dominance. He sighed and leaned against the fence, scuffing the toe of his boot on the ground.

"It's beautiful here." James nodded, not sure what he might say that would alieve his son's wariness and trepidation. He could see now that it was possible that when Angus extended the invitation, he hadn't really believed James would come. He braced his hands on the fence once more, looking out over the green pasture, where Treaty and Raucus were now grazing with other horses. "I can see why you like it."

"It's more the people than the place, although you're right, it's beautiful." Angus glanced towards the house. "Wait until you meet, Beth. You'll understand."

James snorted. "I hope she likes me more than JP."

"Jack says she's an excellent judge of character." Angus cut his gaze to him for a moment. "But she'll be kind and gracious to you no matter what. I hope you weren't rude to JP."

James shook his head. "I'm not sure JP Dalton is a man easily insulted, Son."

"Still, this is his home, and Harry always said you could push the Dali Lama's buttons given the chance."

"Your grandfather would know, but even he didn't know me as well as he thought he did. Neither do you, Angus." James raised his hand in surrender when his son continued to glare at him. "But I can assure you I was on my best behavior. JP, on the other hand…"

"Is like another grandfather to me," Angus interrupted, his face resolutely serious.

"So he made sure to let me know." James had thought it was difficult to compete with a man like Jack Dalton. He was now beginning to realize it wasn't just the single individual that had ensnared his son's affection so completely, but possibly the illusion of American Pie. That dream was hard to compete with, nearly impossible when what you offered was far from the norm of what a family looked like.

"The first time Jack brought me here…" Angus hesitated. "Let's just say I wasn't the best version of myself. This place, along with Beth, JP, Jack and the animals…they helped me heal. The acceptance I felt here, the belonging…It gave me a safe space to let go of what had happened in Afghanistan, to stop the war that was still going on in my head, and move forward."

"Maybe it can work the same kind of magic for us." James was never one to believe in such a thing as magic, but he was beginning to see he would need a miracle to reach his son.

"Maybe. But the battle I have with you isn't up here." Angus met his gaze, touching a finger to his temple. James could see that his son was fighting for precise words as emotions brightened his eyes the way they always had done his mother's identical ones. James felt his own wave of anxiety, but the moment of vulnerability disappeared as quickly as it had come, like an unexpected storm over grasslands, and in its wake appeared a perfectly cool blue resolve that sent a chill up James's spine. He would have almost preferred the fiery look that his wife used to get when she was angry in lieu of the flat, emotionless scape that stared back at him now. Angus shook his head. "I'm not sure even the Narrow Path has the power to change a man's heart."

James chest ached. He hoped to hell his son was wrong, because if not, he'd come a long ways for grilled burgers and a fireworks show.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Now Turn North

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Because I'm sure I'm not the only one who is going to miss Jack tonight on yet another episode without him, I wanted to post this to maybe make it a little better. Now that it seems our beloved Jack is possibly not going to be a regular, I'm not sure if I'll will keep watching the show, but hope to continue writing just the same, but maybe creating a bit of an AU. We can hope for the best in the future, but I hope this story at least lessons the sting of his absence tonight. Thanks always to Mary! Who not only edits but tries to keep me focused on the positive fact that no matter where the show goes, there is always fan fiction!

RcJ

Jack waded around waggling dogs and cut a path past the grunting pig to make his way to the steps with his arms full of overnight bags and two duffels, one of which Bozer had even draped around his neck as if Jack were not only chauffer for the day but a freaking pack mule as well.

"Need some help there, cowboy?" Mac stood at the top of the stairs, a stupidly relaxed smirk on his face that Jack couldn't even get mad about because it was so damn good to see the boy at ease, especially after he got the text from his grandmother.

"If the shining prince of Narrow Path doesn't mind to help the lowly servant, then yes, dude, I could use a hand," Jack growled in his most put out voice. It wouldn't be a visit to his grandparent's home if he didn't complain about being displaced by his partner. Beth's concern for her favorite had been evident by her all caps communications to Jack of 'HURRY HOME! PRODIGAL FATHER RUDELY PUNCTUAL'.

"Give me these. Should you even be carrying all that?" Mac reached for the three bags Riley had brought. Three. Jack recognized them from the few vacations they'd managed over the years, scuffed and well-used, but undeniably still pink. On a mission their computer whiz carried the typical go bag and could manage a week-long stay on the bare minimum, but on a regular trip she reverted back to what Jack realized was most women's go to, which was to pack every damn thing in their closets and bathroom vanities. It made no sense at all, because Riley always wore the same damn things, and looked just like she always did, but Leanna's additional bags he was also toting in his other hand was proof it was some sort of conspiracy.

"My bullet wound is completely healed, dude, but this kind of packing is enough to put a perfectly healthy man in traction. Your wrist may not be able to handle it. What do they think they're going to need?" Jack grumbled as he let Mac take two of the suitcases and garment bags, studying him more intensely on the sly. He gave a pointed look to Mac's wrist when his partner frowned at his inspection. Beth's alert and summons had Jack worrying Mac had not handled James's early arrival well, that there had been trouble between them. He quirked a brow at the kid, hoping James's absence didn't mean that JP had taken him on a ride to see the back forty. "It's just a two-night trip? Right?"

"Maybe Riles needed extra room for her romantic getaway with Billy?" Mac suggested, slyly, changing his grip on the bags to seemingly get a better hold, no doubt offering proof to Jack that he was being mindful of his wrist. He gave a salicious bobbying of his brows. When Jack growled, Mac laughed relieving a little of the tension tightly threaded across Jack's shoulders. "Or she just brought extra storage for all the stuff she knows Nana Beth is going to send home with her in expectations that she won't be back for Christmas or her birthday."

Jack ignored the mirth in his best friend's blue eyes, and reached to remove Bozer's duffel from around his neck. "We could have just shipped all the loot, like last time Nana Beth got a hankering to combine all the holidays from every previous year we had missed coming here." Jack glanced over his shoulder where his grandmother was still oohing and ahhing over the guests whom were gathered around her like a flock of little chicks. She had her arm around Riley, the girl tucked close to her side as she fawned over how pretty Leanna was and commented on Billy's 'exquisite jaw line' and 'fine facial structure'.

"How much you want to bet she paints Billy's 'Adonis-likeness' before the stay's over?"

Mac's innocent question brought Jack's gaze back to him as he recalled his grandmother's comment on the picture Jack had showed her of Billy and Riley when she'd first inquired about her 'granddaughter's' new beau. He glared. "Do not even speak it, brother." Jack lowered his voice although it was unlikely he'd be heard over the dogs carrying on and Beth's commotions. "I have a hard enough time imagining Billy Colton prancing around Riley's apartment in his skivvies, let alone letting his beefcake buns out in the open in my sweet granny's art studio."

Mac laughed again, giving Jack a shake of his head before turning to lead the way into the house, an annoying grin still on his face. "I'm not sure what you're going to do when you have to accept him as a son-in-law."

"Let's just say that is one area I'm going to let ol'Elwood take one for the team. I'm not one to like the idea of giving kids away, especially my kids, wedding or not." Jack shoved his array of luggage through the door, dragging it over the colorful braided rug at the entranceway. He lifted his head to meet Mac's gaze. "Sometimes stand-in dad has its perks. Now that Elwood is back, I'm off the hook."

"You're not some stand in paper tiger parent." Mac looked suddenly angry. Maybe a little hurt.

"Well now, I'm not sure what you mean by that, buddy, but if it's something like the helicopter parent you accused me of being, I guess that's a good thing." Jack's brows drew together as he continued to bump his load over the scarred hardwood floors careful not to scuff the robin egg blue walls of the narrow hallway when he edged around his partner. He unceremoniously dumped the entire heap at the base of the stairs, nodding for Mac to do the same with the bags he'd taken. He frowned slightly, worry for the kid once more seeping into the levity Mac had obviously been trying so hard to maintain and Jack had somehow obliterated. He shrugged with forced nonchalance. "I don't know about you but after the morning I've had, I could do with some coffee in a desperate way."

Jack didn't wait for the younger man to answer before starting to the far end of the house which opened up into Beth's pride and joy, a room with walls the color of butter and one that often smelled like cinnamon and baking bread. She was a woman who believed the kitchen was the heart of the home and had gone to great lengths to make sure the rest of the world knew her feelings on it, too. Those lengths had included remodeling jobs that would have made her favorite Texas power couple Chip and Johanna Gaines weep for joy.

JP had torn down walls, opening up the back of the house into one giant area that contained state of the art appliances but still maintained homey touches like the farm table that could have easily hosted Jesus and all twelve disciples at The Last Supper. It sat in the center of the room but Jack coveted a cozier spot, the little nook that was strategically placed by a stone fireplace. Jack favorited the smaller, high top number to take his breakfast and knew it held the certain power to get a man to open up and spill his secrets. He was convinced his grandmother had somehow charmed it into her very own truth chamber, but he wasn't above using it for his own advantages. Jack was headed there as soon as he got his coffee when a frowning Mac blocked his way.

"A paper tiger is someone who only appears to be in charge, but in reality is powerless and ineffectual." Mac folded his arms over his chest, not blinking. Tension was palpable, radiating from his closed off stance. "It's a perfect idiom if you consider how scary a real tiger is and how nonthreatening a paper one would be. You're not a fake dad. You're the real thing."

"Okay." Jack nodded slowly, sure he was missing something important if the conviction that flashed in Mac's eyes shed any light on where his partner's train of thought was heading. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I was just pointing out that Riley maybe doesn't need me for certain things now that Elwood is back. Being a part of any future nuptials she and Billy may consider being one of them."

"She needs you. Things don't have to change. I bet if you asked her she doesn't want them to." A whirlwind of emotion flitted over Mac's face and Jack internally cringed at the unveiled vulnerability he'd caused to surface.

"Are you sure we're still talking about Riley, bud?" Jack rubbed a hand down his mouth, eyeing the coffee maker sitting on the counter next to the sink and considering the possibility of adding a generous amount of the Irish whiskey he knew JP kept hidden behind the mason jars of honey and molasses. Maybe he didn't need to coerce Mac to join him at the table of truth before his partner spilled what was on his mind. Jack was still getting used to the landmine that was the kid's emotions as of late. It reminded him too much of when they had thought Nikki had died, and subsequently when they'd learned about her betrayal. With a swallowed sigh he forgot about the whiskey, reverting his gaze back to Mac. Being in full charge of his faculties was probably best for the time being.

"Of course," Mac said flatly, not meeting Jack's eyes.

"Then you have to know I'm not going to turn my back on her. I'm still here whenever she needs me. Elwood Davis can't run me off. You know I don't scare so easy." Jack did worry about Riley, but not half as much as he worried about the kid in front of him. Riley had Diane, and that woman was a force to be reckoned with in her own right. Elwood might have been wary of Jack, but he was downright afraid of his ex-wife for good reason. She had always had her daughter's back and would go to any lengths to protect her. Mac didn't have a mother bear in his corner, hadn't for a very long time. That left Jack the role of papa bear. One he would not be conceding anytime soon. He cleared his throat, a new wave of anger for James's recent doings washing over him. "Nana Beth texted me that your old man showed up early."

"I figured." Mac's gaze moved from Jack to the windows behind him, his arms corssing over his chest reflexively. Light was pouring through them, painting the walls a liquid gold and setting the white cabinets aglow. The kid gestured with his chin. "He's out there at the fire pit, helping JP with that thing he claims is a grill."

Jack craned his neck to look over his shoulder, catching site of his grandfather and Oversight bent over what he affectionately called The Dragon. It had charred beef at the Narrow Path for better than twenty years but Jack couldn't recall it being fired up recently, not since JP had pulled a Frankenstein move and overhauled it to create some gas job. He returned his gaze to Mac, knowing that fixing that grill could quite literally be impossible, even for a MacGyver. A fact he was quite sure Mac was well aware of. "How'd that greeting go? Anything like the one now taking place out front?"

Mac sighed, a slight hint of smile lifting the corner of his mouth as his posture relaxed some. "Beth wasn't kissing anyone."

"You don't say." Jack made his way to the counter, picking up his favorite Dallas Cowboy coffee mug from the place where it hung on a rack by the coffee pot. He grabbed the Go Army one for Mac. His grandmother's eclectic menagerie of mugs was ever growing and included ones Jack and Mac had sent her from all over the world. After filling both their cups, he handed one to Mac and started for the breakfast hutch, stopping only long enough to grab the plate of cookies that was sitting temptingly in the center of the farm table.

Mac joined him, claiming one of the stools that put his back to the bay window, possibly so he wouldn't have to see the scene beyond the beveled glass. There was still turmoil flitting through the light blue gaze, playing at the amuse quirk of Mac's mouth. "She was as kind and gracious as you can imagine. Sugary sweet, like she gets when she runs into one of the not so nice ladies from her church. She even told James I got my looks from him, though she added that it was lucky for me that the handsome gene offset my tendency to have her Wyatt's smart mouth and obstinate nature."

Jack snorted, placing the plate of Snickerdoodles in front of Mac. "Leave it to Nana to concoct a world where James and I share credit for your sparkling personality and dashing good looks." He was secretly pleased that his grandmother had kept up her usual insistence that Mac was partially Jack's doing.

"JP was the initial welcome wagon," Mac lifted his mug, pausing before taking a careful drink. He looked at Jack. "His greeting included a shotgun."

"Now that sounds more like it." Jack took the chair across from his partner, spinning it around so he could straddle it saddle like. He reached for a cookie, taking two, before nudging them closer to the younger man. "Tell me more, brother."

"Well, JP claimed he was cleaning his gun on the front porch to put on a show of grandfatherly propriety for Billy, just in case he had any notions about treating Riley with anything but respect and Biblical adoration."

"Go on." Jack savored the mouthful of warm cookie, relishing in the tastes of cinnamon and vanilla, a hint of his boyhood. He grinned, thinking JP would definitely do such a thing but the grandfather spiel didn't just cover Riley. Testosterone-riddled boyfriends weren't the only threat sniffing around these days. "Did Nana buy that load of bull?"

"She took it as about as well is she's going to take you eating the cookies she just took out of the oven for her guests." This time Mac's smile reached his eyes as he picked up one of his own and took a big bite, sliding the plate closer to Jack.

"You don't look so worried." Jack reconsidered taking another from the pile so temptingly close he could practically smell the butter. He chose instead to rearrange the remaining ones in hopes of hiding the fact three were now missing, dusting his hands off on his jeans.

"That's because she already let me eat like five. There's no way I'd have room for more." Mac grinned looking more like the laid back, care free kid he'd evolved into over the last month they'd been in Austin. He shoveled in the rest of the Snickerdoodle, looking not one bit repentant.

"You'd really throw your brother under the bus like that?" Jack pointed a finger at the kid's mouth where crumbs clung to his upper lip. Even if Beth hadn't been blinded by the pure light she claimed radiated from her sweet Angus's face, she'd no doubt buy that the incriminating evidence was from before.

"On second thoughts don't answer that, Et tu Brute," Jack sighed, folding his hands around the warm mug of coffee to keep them off the cookies. "Because you're as about as underhanded as old Dodger is when he takes to leaving incriminating rose petals in Lilly and Switzer's beds." He took a drink, watching as Mac glanced back at the window. Jack tapped the table. "Now get back to JP's showdown with Oversight before the _guests_ get in here and Nana makes us haul luggage upstairs and turn down beds like her own personal bellhops while everyone else partakes of cookies and sun tea."

"There's not a lot to tell because I didn't get out there until the excitement had died down." Mac wiped his hands on a napkin he found in the center of the table and then took another drink of his coffee. His gaze stayed on his mug for a moment before travelling back to Jack. The older man noted the kid had lost the lines of fatigue around his eyes over the weeks they'd been staying at the Narrow Path, but Jack could already see a shadow of weariness had returned with James's arrival. Once more he cursed the day he ever put that damn idea about tracking the man down in Mac's head. "When I asked about it, JP said he was merely introducing James to the horses."

"Because grandpa's big on formality when it comes to the livestock." Jack scoffed, figuring his grandfather had not been making small talk but making his intentions quite clear. Good for him.

"I don't know. You should have seen the intro he gave the dogs." Mac shrugged, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. "JP did everything but pull out their pedigree papers and show them to Oversight for inspection. As if James could tell a Labrador from a Shitzu."

"I'm sure whatever JP and James were discussing was amiable, and even if it wasn't that's not your fault," Jack added when his best friend's smile slipped once more, giving way to all too familiar worry lines. He'd seen his grandfather give a man a well-deserved right cross and keep a smile on his face, but wasn't about to mention it to Mac. His grip tightened around his coffee. "I mean the horses are his favorite talking point, bud. When you first came here, how many stories did you listen to about that first Thoroughbred he bought to get the ranch going?"

"I can recant it by heart, but James isn't just a new guest to regale with Narrow Path history. He has an agenda." Mac put his coffee down, leaning forward on his elbows. His expression was so earnest, so concerned that Jack wanted to go back a few days when he could pretend they were full-time cowboys, helping his grandfather with the ranch. It was a fantasy that didn't include Phoenix or James MacGyver or anything that had happened in the last three months. In it, Jack could easily let himself slip into the role of Mac's only real family.

"You know how my father can be, Jack," Mac asserted, shattering Jack's make believe space with hard reality. Maybe I was wrong to let him come here…the one place he hadn't infected."

Jack forced an easy smile of his own to hide his growing trepidation. Feeding off his partner's worry wouldn't do either of them any good. "Kid, you make your old man sound like one of Riley's computer viruses, nefariously hacking his way through every firewall."

"Because sometimes that is exactly what it feels like he's done. Like he's malware and my life is completely compromised." Mac raked both hands through his hair seemingly forgetting about his sprained wrist. When he met Jack's gaze again, there was a flash of physical pain mixed with the emotional turmoil that kicked the older agent's protective instincts into higher gear. Mac rolled his injured wrist, discomfort showing on his face. "What's worse is that I did the downloading. What the hell was I thinking, giving him free access to the last stronghold. Now it could be ruined too and…"

"Hey now," Jack snapped, frustrated with the situation and his ineptitude, not his boy. He sat up straighter, determination in his serious gaze. "Slow down there, hoss. Nothing's been ruined, not back in LA, and most definitely not here at the ranch. I'm not up on all the tech speak, but I know Riley's always got an anti-virus up her sleeve when we need our systems cleaned up." He met Mac's gaze with the same earnestness the kid showed him before. "Trust me when I say, _I_ have the equivalent when it comes to fathers who wreak havoc in their son's lives. James isn't doing any more damage. I'll shut him down before it comes to that. Reboot his ass right out of here if necessary."

Mac let out a breath with a half laugh, his momentary panic fading marginally. His never still fingers worried at a chip on the lip of his mug. "I'm sorry," he breathed, ducking his head. "I know I'm being ridiculous but…"

"Brother, you're ridiculous when it comes to running five miles every morning," Jack interrupted, bumping his fist against Mac's. "And in your dogmatic belief that beansprouts having any damn business near a sandwich and pineapple belongs on pizza, but worrying about Oversight mucking things up for you is a downright legitimate concern considering his recent track record."

Mac's mouth twitched, shoulders relaxing with relief. "I'm glad you don't think I'm completely paranoid."

"Hell, kid, I wish you were a little more guarded when it came to your safety. Maybe then you'd let me upgrade the security system at your place, install those counter measures I've been telling you about. Then I wouldn't have to worry about every sociopath and bomb connoisseur dropping in unexpectedly to threaten your life and take years off of mine." Jack wasn't going to say he wished Mac had decided against asking James to the ranch. He still wasn't convinced the kid didn't cave to James because it was easier and he simply thought it was what he should do.

A welcomed stubbornness flashed in Mac's blue gaze. "I'm not letting a few mishaps cause me to live in a guarded tower, or in a house with Delta Force booby traps."

Jack lifted a brow, waited for the irony to be absorbed. If the look of chagrin on Mac's face was any indication, it struck like an anvil. He smirked at Jack. "I see what you did there."

"Don't let your old man's agenda, whatever that might be, change who you are, Angus." As the kid's bodyguard, Jack didn't always appreciate Mac's tendency to see the potential good in everyone, his willingness to meet every challenge head on without too much consideration for his own welfare, but he sure as hell recognized that the unquenchable optimism and determination, albeit troublesome and scary as hell for Jack at times, was part of what helped make Mac so incredible. "Him dirtying up your shine is a much more credible threat than him tracking any mud into The Narrow Path, kid."

Mac cocked his head, the way he always did when about to call Jack on one of his bullshit filled rambles or what he and Riley termed 'Jack-isims'. "I'm not sure that metaphor makes sense, Jack."

Jack rolled his eyes, grateful for the normal turn in the conversation. "It makes as much sense as your idiom about paper giraffes and such."

"Tigers." Mac grinned, the genuine article this time erasing his haggard, weighted down appearance. He took another drink of his coffee. "I know you know its tigers and you're just trying to rile me up."

"I do love to rile you up, kid." Jack grave a grin, grabbing another cookie consequences be damned. In truth, Jack would do almost anything to keep Mac from disappearing into his big old brain, especially these days when he was apt to get lost in dark thoughts about his low down father and all the heartache he'd caused. The betrayals and subsequent fallout was like one giant metaphorical paperclip, which Mac couldn't seem to stop himself from toying with, trying to twist into some sort of shape he could make sense of, one he could make peace with. Unfortunately, Jack understood some things weren't pliable, unyielding and steel-like, in their lack of reasoning even in the hands of a genius like his young partner. He winked at Mac, grabbing yet another cookie. "But not as much as I like to watch the master himself poke a stick at a bear. What do you say you and me go lend JP and James a hand fixing that grill?"

RcJ

Mac knew he shouldn't have agreed to his partner's suggestion. There was a reason he'd let JP entice James MacGyver into working on the troubled relic Mac had meant to take a look at for days now as the annual cookout drew closer. He believed he could survive James's two-day stay only if he managed to keep distance between him and his father. The Dragon, as Jack called the modified cooking contraption should have been replaced years ago, but JP insisted on keeping the homemade monstrocity for sentimental reasons he hadn't bothered to share.

Mac figured his father would enjoy the temptation to show off his mechanical prowess but mostly he didn't want to entertain the man himself, even if he'd been the one to issue the invite. Even with the prospect of watching him be vexed by not one, but two Daltons, men who could no doubt stir up a rain puddle to the likes of a storm tossed sea given the proper motivation, Mac was hesitant. Looking back, he would realize he should have listened to his gut and begged off. Volunteering to play bell hop for the rest of their team was an easy task compared to playing assistant to his father, who latched onto the opportunity with all the fervor of one of the dogs with their rope toys.

It was why Mac now found himself enduring a tutorial he didn't need. JP had quickly begged off, pointing out that he'd promised Riley a picnic at the lake and now that she and the others were there he'd leave the boys to it. Surely three 'think-tank' employees could have them up and running before the barbecue that evening. He had quickly busied himself saddling five horses and produced one of Beth's fully-stocked picnic baskets, complete with leftover fried chicken and the cherry pie, Mac was hoping to keep to himself. It was why, although Mac would have much preferred to have tagged along for an afternoon of swimming and food, he was stuck trying to help breathe life back into JP's Dragon. His father had of course taken it as opportunity to try and resuscitate their relationship.

"I think the problem was in the burner arms. I increased the vent holes, giving the gas a better flow to the igniting source," James was saying, even as he was obviously doing whatever he was proposing, gaze gauging Mac before focusing back on the task at hand.

Mac made a mild sound of agreement but was only half listening. Instead of paying close attention, his gaze had gone to Jack who was throwing a stick for Lilly and Dodger. Switzer had followed the day trippers, obviously lured by the promise of new people to beg for chicken, humans who didn't know he was on a diet and was only allowed kibble as the veterinarian had warned Beth that Labradors, even healthy active ones, shouldn't be nudging the scale into the nineties unless they were mixed with Great Dane, which Switzer was not. Switzer was just food driven. Where his sister Lilly was fetch driven. She would retrieve a ball or a stick or anything tossed, even in the heat of a Texas summer day. Mac wasn't sure what drove Dodger, but the pig seemed determined not to be left out as he gave good chase to the silver streak every time Lilly took off for the stick. He felt his mouth twitch at the scene, affection for the animals easy and natural as breathing. Everything seemed so normal and peaceful.

"Nice try, Dodge," Jack called to the pig when he was yet again beat out by his canine gal pal, who gripped the stick in her mouth and trotted back to Jack for another round.

"Angus, did you hear me?"

"What?" Mac startled, glancing to his father, the man eye's narrowing disapprovingly.

"I asked what you thought about the rerouting of the propane?" The first hints of impatience teased at James's tone.

"Do you really care what I think?" Mac returned his father's narrowed stare with one of his own.

"Would I ask if I didn't?"

Mac wanted to point out that his father hadn't ever seemed very concerned about what input he might offer up, choosing to make countless decisions without consulting him. Instead he merely shrugged. "What I really think is that JP needs a new grill."

"So you believe this problem has no solution?" James's frown deepened, and the look he gave Mac was instantly familiar. It was one recalled from childhood, the kind that left an imprint on a young boy's mind. It said 'you are wrong and I'm about to list the reasons why'.

"There is always a solution," Mac said quietly, but firmly. It was the answer his father wanted to hear, one he'd drilled into his son's head. His heart sped up as he looked at James, feeling all of five again. "But sometimes fixing something isn't worth the effort. Not when there's other alternatives available."

"Like a replacement?" James folded his arms over his chest, his gaze going momentarily to Jack who had moved a few yards away from them so the animals could play in the shade of a large stand of oaks.

"There are better, newer grills. Ones with propane tanks that actually work the way they're supposed to work, not some imitation of such." Mac mimicked his father's stubborn stance, also letting his gaze wander to his best friend. As promised Jack had not accepted JP's invitation to join them, even though Mac was certain the allure of Beth's fried chicken had almost as much of a magnetic pull for his partner as it did for Switzer. The promise of a cool swim and the company had also been a temptation, one Jack easily seemed to ignore, in lieu of staying with Mac. A warm feeling washed over him, grateful that Jack always kept his word. It revved his confidence. Mac returned his gaze to his father, sticking his chin out. "Ones that are reliable and don't pose a risk to your health every time you try to depend on it."

James didn't seem affected by what Mac hoped was a clear jab at his failings to perform as a parent should. Instead he actually smiled. "So instead of fixing this one, you think JP should just toss it out and buy him one that works."

Mac realized he wasn't the only one capable of veiling what he wanted to say. He narrowed his eyes at his father, his pulse speeding up as heat rushed to his face. The man could so easily push his buttons. "I'm just saying that if this thing doesn't do what JP needs it to do, then it might not be worth keeping around."

A look of something like hurt flashed through James's dark eyes and Mac felt his stomach twist. It surprised him that he held any kind of power that might actually penetrate Oversight's armor, but also that he still had the capability to feel bad for doing so in light of everything that happened.

"I think JP might disagree considering his father built this thing, created it out of spare parts he found at the railyard where he worked. It's been in his family for years and was one of the few things he brought from his old home when he came here to Narrow Path." James gestured to the crudely attached tank, obviously proud to have been in JP's confidence. "I think he's made some alterations of his own along the way, but obviously he understands the importance of family connection."

Mac was looking at the grill but not really seeing it. He thought his dad was reaching, desperately trying to evoke sentiment that might have lain dormant for far too long. It wasn't the pull of a fatherly bond that tugged at Mac's heart, but a _grandfatherly_ one. The idea that JP had more than passing sentimental attachment for the ill-fashioned gas grill gave Mac slightly more incentive to fix it than to push back against his father's desire for them to work together. He sighed, actually focusing on the crudely constructed system. Mac briefly wondered why JP hadn't just left the thing as a charcoal based number as it so obviously had originally been meant. It was soundly constructed and would hold up under a fire sourced with such, but instead he'd simulated a propane fueled job. At least, Mac assumed it was liquid propane in the small tank. His mouth curved into a smile as he thought about JP attempting to use moonshine as the natural gas.

Once more caught up in his thoughts he didn't notice that his father had taken his quiet consideration as a consent to begin working again, and apparently also as Mac's agreement to his earlier proposal of which Mac had not paid attention.

"So, this should up the encourage of the incitement and clear the obstruction to the gas burner arms…."

Mac barely heard the explanation as he watched his father confidently move his fingers over the base of the burning area, fixated on the issue being there. It was only then that he had a sinking feeling that the series of holes his father had re-drilled for the gas to exit were obviously not the problem. Even smaller ones would have allowed the flow of the heat source to spread evenly. The manifold, although slightly rusted was free of cracks. The belly of the beast seemed uncompromised, which let his thoughts go to the fuel line regulator and his father's earlier mention of opening the valves.

Regulators had rubber connectors, unlike the propane canister that was made of brass. Any unsuspecting user could mis-thread the connector and a propane leak could occur, causing the grill not to get appropriate fuel, but also causing a build-up of leaking propane, which was often odorless and extremely problematic on extremely hot days especially if the propane had been stored in a makeshift cabinet below the grill's body. Mac's quick mind considered the scenario just as he caught his father's conclusion that they should now able to light the grill.

Mac barely had time to register what his father had done before his instincts kicked in. He yelled for Jack to get down and shoved his father out of the way as a massive fireball erupted from the dragon tossing him into the air, it's heated plume scorching Mac's back even as he felt the brutal, unforgiving impact with the ground.

"Mac!"

"Angus!"

A familiar voice pierced the painful ringing in Mac's ears. _Jack._ He tried to respond, only to find his mouth filled with sand. _Sand?_

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Heat, heavy and oppressive beat down on him. His head pounded in rhythm with his frantic pulse. Uncooperative lungs made it impossible to catch his breath. Panic rocked through Mac as sure as the blast that had sent him flying only seconds before. He choked, coughed and tried to force himself up on shaky arms and legs only to have a blaze of agony lance through his wrist and chest. He saw stars and darkness washed in from every side.

" _Steady there, Carl's Junior. Just take it easy." The sudden hand on Mac's shoulder startled him, as if someone had reached out and caught him mid-fall, drawing him up short in mid-plummet, although Mac was certain he'd already hit the ground. Hard. Everything hurt. Pain radiating from his chest, running the length of his arms and legs._

" _Jack," he groaned, his voice caught. Only one person called Mac Carl's Junior and thoughts of his Overwatch's close proximity amazingly calmed Mac's racing heart, immediately fought back the fear that threatened to have him curling into a ball. Instead he managed a short breath and exhaled. "What..."_

" _I'm here, kid." Jack's hand brushed against his neck, the bare patch of skin just below his helmet. "That was some acrobatic feat, kid. You didn't' tell me you could fly."_

 _Mac's thoughts spun. He briefly wondered if they'd crashed a helicopter, or maybe their Humvee hit an IED and had gone airborne. Then he remembered their latest mission in Kabul and his agitation grew. He couldn't hold back on the groan of pain as he tried once more unsuccessfully to push himself up._

" _Easy, brother. Let's get you on your back and your face out of the sand."_

 _Brother. Mac blinked. Somewhere, somehow in the almost six months since Jack Dalton had become his overwatch, they'd gone from instant and pure disdain of one another, to family. If someone had told Mac on that fateful day so long ago that he would come to feel anything but animosity for the big Delta, let alone a sense of instant safety and protection in his presence, Mac would have punched them in the face as certainly as Jack had punched him when he'd dared pick up the Delta's sniper rifle._

" _Angus, are you with me?" Jack's voice was insistent now, and the fact he'd called Mac by his first name instead of one of the many annoying aliases- Shepherd, kid, or the hated Carl's Junior- had Mac trying to push his way through the pain and confusion to respond._

" _Yeah." Mac gasped when he felt himself being carefully rolled over. "I'm good."_

" _Sure you are, brother." Jack's laugh was forced but at least he didn't sound quite so serious. In fact, Mac heard him let out a deep sigh of what sounded like relief. "Everything's still attached. You're as ugly as ever. How about you open those baby blues now so I can breathe easy."_

 _Mac hadn't realized he still had his eyes squeezed shut, but when he forced them open, the sun above was searing and pain shot through his skull. He groaned trying to roll over again, but Jack's hold on his shoulder was firm._

" _No, no. Stay with me. Talk to me, Shepherd."_

 _The fuzziness in Mac's brain was starting to clear. The unexpected explosion coming back in painful clarity. Shit._

" _Harmon?" Thoughts of the other EOD had him recoiling, trying to scramble away from Jack's hold. He made it to a seated position before his overwatch caught him, adrenaline twitching through his body in spurts now._

" _Easy, easy." Jack's hands hovered in front of Mac in a calming manner, then one came to briefly press against Mac's face. The touch had Mac blinking hard, searching the Delta's expression. It was one of rare fear and fierce concern. "How about not moving so fast, kid. Not until I know if you've busted something inside."_

" _Harmon…" Mac ignored Jack's warning, and tried to struggle to his knees. His head spun, the world weirdly tilting to the left. "Is he…" He didn't need to finish his question because it was then that he realized that what he thought was ringing in his ears was in part the other man's piercing shrieks._

" _MacGyver…" Jack started, but Mac shoved him away._

 _He was desperate to find Harmon. To do something to help him. He'd been a few yards in front of Mac, talking to him over their comms. Running his mouth instead of listening to Mac._

 _Jack moved in front of him once more, forcing him back to the hot sand before Mac could get a look through the barricade of bodies between him and the downed EOD. Their teammates were shouting, barking commands into their radios. Jack's hands shot out to grip Mac's shoulders. "Keep your eyes on me, MacGyver.. Look at me."_

 _Jack's tone had become gruff again. His 'listen to me, damn it' tone proving the order broke no room for disobeying. Mac blinked, felt something warm trickling down his face. Harmon was a dick, no doubt about it. The man had been hell bent on proving he was somehow better than Mac because he was older and seasoned with three tours under his belt. Since he'd transferred in a few weeks before, he'd seemingly been determined to impress the Delta team he'd been assigned to when their short term mission proved to be longer and more complicated than planned. Harmon obviously had ideas of outshining Mac, possibly hoping to displace the 'kid', but Mac would never have wished him hurt…or worse._

" _Is he…" Mac started and then faltered when he heard Harmon scream for his mother. He'd heard other men make such heart-wrenching pleas, yell out for their moms or God when they'd been shot or torn apart by some IED. Mac had never known that kind of physical pain, the kind that made you crazy, blinded you to all rational thought so that only base emotions ruled and made you desperate for anything or anyone that you believed could just make the hurting stop. If he experienced that level of suffering, if he had been the unfortunate one so close to the exploded IED, Mac had a feeling he knew who he would have called for. He swallowed the disturbing images his line of thinking had conjured, tasting copper and bile. "Jack?" His voice shook._

" _Hey. That's it. Keep looking at me. I'm easy on the eyes, you know." Jack's voice had gentled, and he actually brought the hand that was still gripping Mac's shoulder up to press against his face. "Are you hurt?"_

 _When Mac faltered, Jack's other hand came up so that he was framing the younger man's face. "Mac? Are. You. Hurt."_

 _The mere shock of Jack actually calling him what he'd been insisting he call him for months now, had him blocking out Harmon and the rest of the melee around them. It seemed like hours had passed since Mac realized what Harmon was about to do, the mistake that would cost him gravely, but in actuality knew only minutes had passed. Jack was staring at him so intently that Mac wasn't sure if he should try to scurry away or bury himself in the other man's chest. The childish inclination to throw himself at his Overwatch and hold on for dear life seemed to snap him back to his senses. He blinked again._

" _No, Jack. I'm okay."_

 _Jack rocked back on his heels, moving his hands. Both of which came away smeared with blood. The sight had Mac's fear kicking in once more, and he considered the notion that perhaps he was in shock and was hurt worse than he thought. His first inclination was to look down at his own hands. His legs._

 _The panic must have showed, his widened eyes and quickened breath betraying his treacherous thoughts of every worst case scenario he'd imagined for himself, because one of Jack's hands came back to grip Mac's neck, his thumb gliding reassuringly over the base of his throat. "Take it easy. You're okay. Still whole and intact. I've got you. I promise."_

" _I radioed him to wait for me…I told him the IED's were different here, that I'd worked them longer," Mac stuttered, his eyes burning as the words came babbling out. The inevitable adrenaline dump was starting to make him shake so hard that his voice trembled. He clenched his fists, willing some control into his body."I should have…I tried to make him wait for me. I was almost there."_

" _Tombstone? He alright?" Boxer's loud booming voice interrupted Mac's rant, coming from somewhere close to Harmon. "We've got a fucking mess over here, Wyatt. Do we need two stretchers?"_

" _Give me a minute!" Jack glanced over his shoulder and yelled at their teammate. Mac jumped. The hand around his neck squeezed again and when he looked up at his oversight, the Delta actually forced a grin that seemed so ridiculously out of place in the hell that was going on around them that Mac found himself mimicking the motion, albeit it tremulously. Jack's voice gentled once more as he drew Mac closer. "I know you look okay, brother, but can you give me the lowdown on what's going on inside that ginormous brain of yours before Box has a coronary and has you airlifted into the city. Do you need a bird out of here?"_

" _No!" Thoughts of being out of Jack's sight ignited his panic, had him impulsively reaching up to latch onto Jack's vest. When the Delta's eyes narrowed in concern, Mac forced his fingers to relax their death grip and slide away to his own lap where he clamped them together so Jack wouldn't see how they shook. "I…I think I'm okay. Really, Jack."_

 _Mac wasn't entirely sure that was true, but nothing felt broken, nothing hurt more that it should have considered he'd been tossed twenty or move feet by a blast. The last thing he wanted was to be packed on a chopper and whisked off by himself to Daoud Khan Military Hospital._

" _You're bleeding." Jack lifted the hand that had been resting on Mac's face, his fingers smeared in more red. He rubbed his thumb over a stinging spot on Mac's forehead, eliciting a sharp gasp and a blink from Mac. "Sorry," Jack winced, wiping his hand on his pants. "The cut's not that deep on your head, but is there anymore shrapnel?"_

 _Without waiting for Mac to answer Jack started a pat down of his person, moving from his shoulders and arms, working his way down each leg. Any other time, Mac would have rebuffed the invasion of his personal space, but as it was, with Harmon's shrieks still filling the air and the reality that it could have easily been him enduring some horrific injury, Mac did the opposite of shying away. He once more latched onto Jack with one hand, determined to keep the man in his presence, and feeling very much like the nineteen year old kid he tried so hard never to be in front of his overwatch and the rest of their team._

" _Don't go…"_

" _Hey," Jack lifted his head, their gazes locking. "I'm not going anywhere. Neither are you. Got it?"_

 _Mac licked his lips, tasting sand and blood. He resisted the urge to glance to where medics were now hovered over Harmon, images of Pena's destroyed body forcibly penetrating his mind. He heard the whir of a chopper. The sickening smell of burnt flesh brought more unwanted images of his training officer, his friend. His breath hitched and he was certain he might be sick. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth. Jack's hands framed his face again, warm against his skin._

" _Stay with me, kid."_

 _When the screams suddenly stopped Mac opened his eyes, not sure if he should be relieved or even more afraid. His heart pounded against his chest so hard that he was certain its fierce beating filled the empty silence left by the end of Harmon's cries as he was rushed to the chopper._

" _I'm sorry," Mac said again, quietly. He looked up at Jack, pushing back against the burning in his eyes, refused to act like a child. This was war. This is what he signed on for and he would not let the fact he was scared shitless show. Mac wasn't sure what he was apologizing for because it was Harmon who'd made the mistake, the one who'd not listened and pushed on ahead when Mac had tried to stop him. Maybe he was apologizing for the fact he suddenly wished he was anywhere but in the desert, thoughts of California traitorous when his team was here._

" _I'm not," Jack said firmly, unabashedly. "I mean I'm sorry as hell for Harmon…" sincere regret filled the Delta's dark eyes. Jack had busted the man's chops a few times for dissing Mac, but he'd mostly let Mac handle it for which Mac had been grateful at the time, but now he wondered if he should have reported the extent of Harmon's bullshit, because he couldn't help but to feel guilty for the man being hurt, and even worse, he knew Jack would feel the weight of that burden two fold. Not only had Harmon been injured on his watch, but Mac had come close to being killed as well. If nothing else, Mac had understood from the get go that Jack Dalton took his mission to protect him beyond seriously._

" _But damn, kid," The Delta's voice broke and it had Mac snapping back to the present, instantly alert to the change, something new charging the air around them. "I'm so glad you're okay. Shit. When I heard that explosion, saw you blown back…" He cleared his throat quickly, letting his hands drop away from Mac. He forced a familiar smirk. "Let's just say I was afraid I was going to be putting in for another fucking EOD, just when I'm finally getting your obstinate ass half-trained."_

 _It was a smooth cover. One that might have fooled Mac a few months back, had him chalking the deep emotion as adrenaline and the after effects of escaping certain death once again. But not now. This time he saw clearly. His homesickness vanquished in light of the revelation. Jack hadn't thrown his defenses into place before Mac witnessed the truth in the other man's eyes. Jack cared about him. Loved him, even._

 _Love._

 _It made no logical sense. Mac liked math and science for sound reason. It was predictable. Steadfast. There was always a cause and effect. You did one thing, and could predict what the inevitable outcome would be. An answer to any question. His father had taught him that, methodically and painstakingly driving the point home in every teachable moment. He had also taught him that love was never certain or predictable and could not be counted on, inadvertently of course, but a lesson still the same._

 _But Jack choosing to love him, to care so damn much he came back for another tour when he was bound stateside, defied the rules. The one surety of Love was that it was dangerous. It was costly. And the price was grief, loss, sometimes betrayal. It made you vulnerable if nothing else. Mac had rarely chosen it for himself, and it didn't make sense that one of the strongest, toughest and bravest men he'd ever known would willingly put himself at risk, at such a disadvantage. Tactically-and Jack Dalton was a brilliant strategist-it didn't add up. Two plus two equaled five. Gravity failed. Newton's Laws were rubbish. Mac could count on one hand the people he loved._

 _Pragmatic Harry._

 _His perfect ghost of a mother._

 _Parents and grandparents alike had to love their children and vice versa. Families were stuck with one another and the inevitable heartache and fallout that they brought with them._

 _Bozer._

 _Some friends were time and again tried and tested and proven true through years and years loyalty. They earned love. But Jack…_

 _Jack had taken on that risk of his own free will and almost instantaneously. He'd reupped after only weeks of knowing Mac. He'd willingly let himself care for someone who gave him no reason to do so. Called him family. Brother. And now Mac realized those weren't just words, some military reference to the bond men forged in battle. Jack meant it._

" _You ready to move, bud?"_

 _The question had Mac nodding without thought, still a bit stupefied, not by the blast but by the realization. Once more he found it hard to swallow the baseball size lump that had sprung to the back of his throat, although this particular rush of emotion had nothing to do with physical pain or fear. Jack had reached a hand out to him. Mac latched onto it. The other man's grip was certain and steady. It gave Mac the confidence to speak._

" _I'm ready."_

To be continued…

A/A/N: A big thank you to all the kind reviews on the first chapter. I will do my best to get back to each and everyone one of you. I love to hear your thoughts and comments.


	3. Chapter 3

Now Turn North

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: I want to say a hundred thanks to those who left encouraging and kind reviews for this story. I have been remiss in getting back to you individually. Sometimes finding time to write is a challenge, but I apologize for not keeping up. Thanks to Mary for her prodding and wonderful editing skills! I hope this long chapter might cheer up some of those saddened by the news of George Eades leaving MacGyver. I try to keep in mind that I didn't truly fall in love with our boys because of the show...but rather because of the rich and amazing relationship we writers have given them. The works of those here on this site and others have brought Mac and Jack to life for me, not the writers of the show, and that doesn't have to change, my friends. We can carry on. Even when the show takes a direction none of us wanted. Jack Dalton is still with us. At our very fingertips. Waiting for our lead. At the mercy and in the care of our wildest imaginations. There is still hurt comfort to be had, memories to be made, pre-series exploits to be explored and taken apart. There are AU's to be forged like untraversed territory. Don't be dismayed or discouraged. Stories hold magic. We have the power to use that magic for good. I am willing to take up that gauntlet...how about you?

RcJ

"Mac!"

"Angus!"

Jack's voice reached through the darkness, and stopped Mac's spiral into unconsciousness as sure as if the man had physically caught him in mid-air, as if Mac were some man-sized baseball which had been launched toward home base from the outfield and Jack had instinctively known where to put his glove for the miraculous catch. Jack might have saved Mac from temporary oblivion, but metaphors aside, he'd not prevented him from being catapulted by the explosion. Nor had Mac's protector spared him the eventual brutal landing.

Mac could now feel cool grass beneath his hands and dirt in his mouth. _Not sand._ Through the pounding in his skull, he grasped at the idea he'd been in the desert only seconds before. He squeezed his eyes shut, groaned as a tumble of memories sparked off behind his lids, joining the impressive fireworks. _Fireworks._ Somehow Mac recalled it was the Fourth of July, plucked the useful information from his muddled thoughts.

"Easy, cowboy." Jack's hand on his shoulder grounded Mac. Texas, he told himself. They were in Texas. A cold nose nudged Mac's face as further proof, a warm tongue sliding across his cheek, accompanied by definite dog snuffling.

"Get back, Lilly girl." _Jack._

"Keep that dog off of him, Dalton." _Dad._

"Stop telling me what to do and make-sure nothing else on that damn grill is going to blow." _Jack was angry...or scared._

The simultaneous commands, along with the ringing in Mac's ears mixed poorly with the excruciating pain which lanced through his head, the ache that throbbed relentlessly at his right cheek. It felt like small bombs going off in his skull, and although he logically understood it wasn't possible he wondered if they were taking on enemy fire. Well-honed instincts told him to move. To get his ass up.

Mac tried. He pushed against the ground only to have a white bolt of agony shoot through his right wrist. He gasped, falling flat on his face once more. He heard grunting, a squeal as something nudged at his feet.

"Easy now." Jack's voice worked its magic again, keeping the darkness encroaching at the edges of his mind like black ink from completely covering him. His grip on Mac's shoulder tightened. "Take it easy. Let me see," Jack said, his voice hardening as he added. "Dodger, move."

"Is he hurt? Is he burnt?" Hearing his father's voice was somehow surreal. Mac knew damn well James MacGyver was not in Afghanistan.

"His shirt's a little singed." Jack's tone was surprisingly calm now, assured and steady as the hands that skimmed the planes and contours of Mac's body. "Come back and help me roll him over."

Unfamiliar hands cupped Mac's head and he wanted to pull away, but Jack was there, talking to him, telling him it was okay, to breath.

"Jack?" Mac managed once he was gently guided to his back. He could feel the sun on his face. It's heat as palpable as a stifling blanket.

"I'm here, kiddo. You're okay."

"Harmon?" He gasped, images of Kabul once more coming quickly and unwelcomed with the smell of smoke and fuel thick in the air. "How's Harmon?"

"Who the hell is Harmon?" James demanded.

Jack seemingly ignored his question and Mac's father's too. It made sense that Jack didn't hear James MacGyver because he couldn't possibly be present. Not in Kabul. Not anywhere in his son's close proximity for that matter. That was the rule. If Mac was there, James was not. Father and son were not in sync. He was obviously only in Mac's head along with the marching band that was loudly parading about between his cortex and frontal lobe. A parade also made sense seeing as how it _was_ the Fourth of July, but Jack's lack of response to Mac was worrisome. Little did Mac realize in his confused state that his father was indeed present and although not vocal, his best friend _had_ communicated with the man just the same, albeit in the form of a quick shake of his head and a Dalton scowl that had Oversight staying quiet for the moment.

But the silence scared Mac. So much so that he lifted a hand to reach for his overwatch, to make sure he was also real, not some hallucination brought on by whatever injury Mac was sure he had sustained to his head, which was possibly killing him.

Gratefully Jack caught his hand, his callused fingers closing tightly over Mac's. "I gotcha, brother. I got you."

"Wyatt!" Someone called frantically from a distance. Mac had the momentary thought that Boxer was so frightened that he sounded like a girl. "Wyatt, is he alright?" The worried, high-pitched inquiry sounded again and Mac made a note to make fun of their teammate later, that was if he survived until later.

"How about you open your eyes for me, bud," Jack was closer now. Mac could feel the huff of air on his face, even as Jack's other hand pressed against his cheek, the one that didn't feel like it was broken. "Come on now, before Nana Beth gets over here and thinks you've done gone to paradise? It will break her heart to think either of us is getting a glimpse of The Pearly Gates before her. She'll never forgive me or JP for turning you loose on the dragon."

"Nana Beth?" Mac frowned, fighting his way through the confusion and pain to open his eyes. He hadn't even realized he still had them clamped shut against the pain in his skull. "But Harmon…"

"No Harmon. Not today, Angus." Jack's hand ran through Mac's hair. Mac wasn't sure if his partner was offering comfort or searching for a tell-tale lump as deft fingers skimmed his scalp, but at the moment he didn't really care. He swallowed hard, blinked up at the older man who was on his knees right beside him. The searing bright light brought tears to his eyes. Jack was real, and that meant Mac was okay, whether they were in Afghanistan or Austin, Texas.

"We're home?" He croaked.

"We're home." Jack nodded, assuredly holding his gaze.

"God, is he having some sort of flashback?"

Mac swiveled his head at the distraught question, couldn't quite hide the gasp it elicited. "Dad," he breathed.

It seemed James MacGyver was real as well and kneeled at his other side. The aloof man being in Texas was almost as strange as him showing up in Kabul. Mac didn't miss the fact that for the first time in his life he'd almost preferred the image of barracks in the distance shimmering through the waves of heat wafting from the desert floor. The mirage was less troublesome than the laser-like stare James MacGyver leveled on him now. A war with strangers he could handle, the battle zone with his father had somehow proven more dangerous and beleaguering, the lines of friend or foe so easily blurred. Mac preferred clear cut boundaries. Black and white. His relationship with his father was undefinable and wildly technicolored.

"Are you hurt, son?" James reached for him.

Without thought, Mac rolled toward Jack, seeking shelter and possibly escape. The knee-jerk reaction was both telling and incredibly unwise as new pain erupted in Mac's side and he whimpered.

"Easy, bud." Jack's hand once more latched onto his shoulder, holding him in place. The fingers that carded through his hair this time were definitely for solace and not examination, though Mac winced when they hit a particularly tender spot. If Mac hadn't clamped his eyes shut again, he would have witnessed the warning glare Jack gave James, and the indignant, territorial scowl that James returned in kind.

"Wyatt? Should I call an ambulance?" Beth's appearance into the fray was heralded by the hint of Lavender and Vanilla, her trademark scent, one that usually brought comfort but that now in Mac's state caused his stomach to roll. "That damn grill," he heard her huff as one of her soft hand's closed around his. "Angus, can you hear me?"

"I'm okay." Mac once more forced his eyes open, the fear in Beth's voice, giving him the clarity to try and sit up. Jack quickly reached out to help him, bolstering Mac with his shoulder so that he didn't tip over.

"You're bleeding," Beth gasped when Mac was mostly upright thanks to Jack's support. She was holding a fire extinguisher which she quickly shoved at James before bringing her hand to Mac's forehead. Mac watched his father sigh, but get up to go and put out the smoldering remains of the dragon. When Beth's fingers came away smeared in red, her fiery eyes glanced to James retreating form, and then to Jack. "The boy's bleeding, Wyatt."

"I can see that, Nana," Jack harrumphed at the accusation and Mac might have managed a smile at his best friend's exasperation if being upright hadn't required him to focus solely on not throwing up. Beth's gaze returned to Mac as she clutched his hand tighter. "I told your grandfather to go to the damn Wal-Mart and buy a new grill instead of playing mad scientist with that eye sore. He's a horseman, not an engineer. He's also as stubborn as a mule."

Mac wasn't sure if he had ever heard her swear, and now Beth had cursed twice. He reconsidered his state, wondering if he was worse off than he thought. He didn't have much time to consider it as new wash of pain had him jerking with a start as Jack pressed something soft to the cut on his forehead.

"Easy, bud. Let's get some pressure on that before Nana has a heart attack in her fragile state." Jack's tone was teasing, but Mac picked up on the edge. Beth wasn't the only one he'd scared.

"That material is far from sanitary," Beth sighed and Mac realized that Lilly was no longer wearing her red, white and blue, star-spangled bandana she'd been sporting earlier. Mac guessed it was now being used as a bandage and he supposed he should be grateful that Dodger still had his Cowboy's shirt on as the pig liked to roll around in the horse field.

"Now, Nana…" Jack started.

"Don't you now Nana me!" She snapped, uncharacteristically. "What were you thinking letting him work on that thing, Wyatt?"

"Oh, I don't know, Nana, maybe I was thinking he's a grown man, whom I've watched disarm hundreds of bombs in Afghanistan and uncover countless IEDs that could take out a small city block." Jack snapped right back, although not unusual for him, an unsettling reaction when it came to speaking to his grandmother. He pressed hard enough on the make-shift bandage to cause Mac's eyes to burn. Jack's other arm flailed about and Mac realized just how rattled his partner was when the tone he'd taken was certain to earn him considerable ire from the Dalton matriarch. "Besides it was James who blew the damn thing up." Jack growled, jutting a finger at Mac's father. "How about you take a bite out of him."

"I did no such thing," James sputtered, returning from his task. He dropped the fire extinguisher, his indignation withering quickly when Beth Dalton's formidable gaze swept to him. He took a knee near Mac once more. "I mean…I had no idea that there was a leak in the propane, which must have been…"

"The fault is no concern at the moment." Beth seemed to gather herself and Mac resisted defending Jack and implicating his father, although for the first time he had the clarity to be relieved the older man was okay. His father's hands were dirty, and there was a small scratch on his chin, but that seemed the extent of the damage. Mac on the other hand was convinced he'd broken his face. The world was spinning just a little too quickly. He leaned heavily against Jack, thankful for his close proximity. "Angus is the only thing that matters," Beth assured. Her gaze went to Jack once more. "Now should we call an ambulance? He could have internal injuries or…"

"No ambulance." Mac didn't even consider giving a shake of his head, but he did attempt to sit up straighter and look as with it as he could manage. "I'm fine."

"You're obviously not fine." James had already pulled his cellphone from his pocket and Mac felt a wash of panic and irritation that once again his father was ignoring what his son wanted in lieu of what he believed was best. It dug at all the insecurities Mac had about how James MacGyver had controlled so much of his life without Mac knowing.

"If the kid needs a hospital run then I'll take him," Jack objected and Mac felt a rush of relief.

"Because you're the expert in the proper care of Angus MacGyver?" James spat, glowering at Jack with a rare showing of his temper. Mac didn't want them arguing, but was grateful his father was momentarily distracted from dialing 9-1-1. He had been injured enough times to know when he was in need of immediate attention and despite feeling as if he'd taken another spin in the port-o-potty he and Jack once rode out a hurricane in, he knew he wasn't in dire straits.

"I've had a hell of a lot more practice at it than you, MacGyver! Nearly ten years in fact," Jack returned and Mac hissed again as his partner's frustration was channeled through the 'pressure' he was applying to the cut over Mac's eye.

"That's enough!" Beth's voice was sharp and just as commanding as Jack's could be when he was in full overwatch mode. "I will not have you two behaving like a couple of stud horses warring for lead stallion of the herd. Not when your boy is hurt."

" _My_ boy," James clarified icily. Nana's head swiveled to give him the full on 'don't you dare test me' stare. One Mac had seen cower bigger and scarier men than Oversight. Mac watched in amazement as his dad wisely shrunk back, raising a hand of apology as he muttered, 'sorry' under his breath. Beth continued to shoot daggers until James got a clue that they were in the South and added 'mam' to the end. "Sorry, mam," he clarified.

Mac thought it ironic that in wild or feral herds it was typically a lead 'mare' who was in charge. Obviously Beth, liked the wild horses she loved, also was not one to be cowed and she looked quite close to demonstrating her dominance to the two males who'd wisely closed their mouths. She looked so uncharacteristically flustered, angry even, that Mac mustered a half smile.

"A large group of horses is usually called a team or a harass, Nana. Not a herd as most people would believe."

Her gaze instantly swung to him, narrowing at his casual correction, and he considered the wisdom in pushing her tolerance for disrespect even in his compromised state. But as quickly as the irritation flared, she softened, seeming to smartly glean his intention or taking pity at his sheepish look. She forced a smile, going so far as to cluck her tongue in disappointment as she cut a glance to Jack.

"Now, Wyatt, if our boy was suffering from a brain bleed do you suppose he would still be able to speak so fresh?"

"I can't say for certain, Nana, because I've never seen him sustain an injury that kept him from lecturing me in that know it all way he can have. Even half dead the kid's capable of being a smart ass." Jack shifted his grip slightly on the bandana he'd pressed to Mac's forehead and Mac tried not to grimace.

"Just like a Dalton," Beth patted the patient's leg, her gaze still full of worry. "Well then, Angus, I suppose we should let Wyatt take you to the ER just to be on the safe side."

"But…" Mac started, only to have Beth give a sharp shake of her head, all kidding aside. He once again tried not to lean so heavily on Jack but his head was pounding, throwing his equilibrium.

"Do you know what they call a large group of Unicorns, Angus?" Beth asked.

The question caught Mac off guard, disrupting his intention to insist once more he was fine. He resisted the urge to point out he would call it a huge impossibility because there were no such thing as a unicorns knowing Beth had once pointed out their mention in scripture. She didn't give him a chance to gather his thoughts, instead reaching out to gently brush his throbbing cheek with her fingers.

"It's called a blessing, child. A blessing. And just as I would not dare turn a blind eye to such a sight if I encountered one, I will not discount what a gift I have in you- or how quickly it could disappear. No. I won't have it. I will absolutely not breathe easy until you've been cleared by a proper doctor. You could be what they call a walkie-talkie. Seemingly fine one minute, but standing in the presence of our Lord the very next."

Mac sighed, realizing as he stared into Beth's fearful, dark eyes that the woman watched entirely too many medical dramas but also understanding that he was not going to get out of going to the hospital. She seemingly read his concession, turning quickly to James before Mac could change his mind and once more try to argue.

"Jimmy, put away that phone this instant and run into the house to fetch the first aid kit. It's in the bathroom upstairs. It has some clean bandages and an icepack for Angus's face." She didn't give the elder MacGyver a chance to challenge her order either, or to correct her for the fact she'd amusingly called him _Jimmy_. Instead her gaze volleyed to Jack. "Wyatt, go fetch JP's truck. Pull it right up here."

"Yes, mam," Jack replied instantly.

"I can walk…" Mac started only to have his partner give him a cross look.

"You can also go in an ambulance if you push your luck, brother." Jack nodded to James, who still held his phone, although off to his side where Nana Beth couldn't see.

"You wouldn't…" Mac found the strength to shift away from Jack, turning so he could meet his best friend's gaze.

"Try me, Et tu Brute." Jack winked to take some of the sting from his words. He wrapped his long fingers around Mac's wrist, giving it a firm squeeze before guiding the younger man's hand up to the bandana, to replace his own. "Hold this, bud. I'll be right back."

Jack's gaze held a hint of question, one which Mac realized meant his best friend wasn't going anywhere despite his words and his grandmother's charge until Mac released him with some sign he was okay, both with sitting on his own and with Jack leaving. The fact James MacGyver had already disappeared towards the house was not lost on Mac. He swallowed thickly, nodding. He tracked Jack getting to his feet, quelling the panic that tried to build as irrational thoughts of being alone battered his defenses.

"Watch him, girl." Jack patted Lilly on the head, the dog lying down close to Mac with a heavy sigh, her big block head a comforting presence on his lap. Dodger joined her and Mac rolled his eyes that he now was being monitored by three sets of anxious eyes. He caught the amused smirk on his partner's face as Jack seemed to glean his relief. Turning to go, Mac watched him break into a jog as he crossed the yard.

"How are you doing?" Beth asked, her question bringing Mac's focus to her once more. She'd taken a seat next to him, her hand still holding his injured one as she watched him closely. Dodger had curled next to her, grunting softly as he actually appeared to be napping. Apparently he was no longer worried about Mac succumbing to his injuries.

"I'm fine, Nana, really." He tried for another smile, wishing she would take a hint from Dodger and stand at ease. The skin over Mac's cheek pulled and another wave of nausea roiled through him. He took some slow deep breaths, hoping he didn't hurl. "I've had worse than this, trust me."

"I'm sure you have although I could have done without that reminder." She frowned, continuing to eye him warily as if she could gauge his honesty by the dilation of his pupils. "I am an old , fragile woman who prefers not to dwell on the foolishness of the young ones she loves more than life itself."

"You're not old, Nana." _Or fragile._ Mac tried to sit up straighter, bringing an arm over his ribs when they protested the move. The trip he'd taken thanks to the exploding tank had awoken the aches and pains of the earlier spill he'd had from Treaty. It was not lost on him that his body was starting to mirror just how beat up and bruised he felt on the inside.

"I appreciate that considering I know how you millennials think fifty is Methusala ancient, but I was speaking more to what's going on the inside." It was as if Nana had heard his thoughts and he momentarily feared in his confused state he may have spoken them aloud. Her hand drifted to his chest, pressing against his sternum before moving to brush over his hair. "Not any injury up here. After all, you do seem to have somehow miraculously inherited the Dalton hard head."

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Mac squirmed, this time more from the intensity of her penetrating stare than the pain he was experiencing. A certain look overtook her heavily-lined face, one usually reserved for Jack, or JP when they had done or said something she deemed extremely foolish. It was filled with exasperation, but also unabashed love and Mac wasn't sure whether to feel lucky to be included in such regard or afraid of what came next which was typically uncensored, and sometimes hard, truth.

"I'm speaking to that deep wound your daddy no doubt ripped open with him reappearing like he did." She tilted her head, her frown deepening. "You've been worked up about it, like Switzer when he gets a hot spot on his behind, licking it and worrying with it until it's all inflamed and infected."

Mac swallowed, Beth's comparison not helping with his growing nausea or the way his head had started to spin. He blinked and she tried to offer some comfort by squeezing tighter to his hand. He was a little in awe and a bit afraid by the way she directly cut to the problem. Mac pondered if he was really doing such a poor job of hiding his feelings or if it had more to do with her keen insight as a grandmother, even if Mac wasn't technically her grandson. "It makes me wish there was some homemade ointment," she continued, thoughtfully, "I could smear over it and make it go away, or at least stop hurting you, but with human hot spots there is no such quick fix."

"It's not so bad now," Mac lied. He'd had months to come to terms with finding out his father was Oversight, to digest the degree of the man's machinations. Finding out James had consistently been on the fringes of Mac's life, watching from a distance that obviously brought him some sort of consolation and satisfaction had not eased the hurt Mac felt, but somehow increased it ten-fold. Maybe because while the idea of guiding and orchestrating his son's life from behind the curtain of lies brought James, the man who'd walked away from his only child, some sort of absolution in the fatherhood department, possibly even given him parental pleasure, it did nothing for Mac, the one who'd been left behind. He glanced at Beth, renewing his effort to school his features. "He's not such a bad guy. He says he wants another chance."

She considered him for a long moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Everybody wants something, Angus, and that's not necessarily a bad thing. In fact, it's entirely human. But when those wants disregard the needs of others then there's bound to be trouble." Beth squeezed his hand once more and let him go. "I'm sure James wants to salvage some sort of relationship with his son. It's obvious he wants to make a mends to ease a guilt anyone would feel in his position. Maybe he even truly wants to give you what you've been deprived of for so long. But as powerful as his wants are, they are at their core still just that- what _he_ wants. I'm more concerned about what you want, sweet boy. I wish he was as well."

A voice inside of Mac welled up with a frantic 'me, too', 'me, too'. He ignored it, licking his lips, tasting copper from the cut he could now feel lining his bottom one. Mac focused on the throbbing there, instead of the ache in his chest. "I'm not sure that's ever going to happen."

"Then I think it's time you turn north," Beth said, succinctly.

Mac briefly considered if his head injury was worse than he'd originally believed or that maybe he was still having a hard time hearing after the loud blast. He blinked, furrowing his brow, which only resulted in him painfully pulling at the cut on his forehead. Mac eased the makeshift bandage away, hoping he'd not restarted the bleeding.

"It's something my daddy used to say," Beth explained, apparently reading his confusion. She guided his hand back to the cut and gave him a look that said he needed to leave the bandana in place. "He was a kind, gentle man, but one of few words unless he was behind the pulpit. He usually let the scriptures do the talking for him in his work and in personal affairs, especially when it came to his headstrong, willful daughter who had a bit of sass back in the day."

"Back in the day?" Mac lifted a brow and was rewarded by a feigned innocent look he'd seen Jack give when he was being called to the carpet for some infraction or another.

"As I was saying," Beth continued on undaunted and actually looking quite pleased, "that particular advice is from Deuteronomy. It was given to God's chosen people as they continued to wonder around the desert after forty years of worrying and fretting. Basically, God's way of saying it's time to make a decision and move forward." Her gaze briefly darted to where Jack had disappeared before focusing once more on Mac. "My daddy often used it when he thought I was a bit stuck in a situation, whether it was stewing over being slighted a party invitation as a young girl lamenting our poor social standing or when I was pondering if I should accept the proposal for my hand in marriage by one stubborn Texas boy with wild-eyed dreams of taking the horse racing world by storm or choose the young man I'd known my whole life who wanted to whisk me off to Haiti to fulfill our hopes of becoming missionaries."

"JP had stiff competition?" Mac asked, trying to imagine Jack's grandparents as teenagers grappling with life-altering decisions. It had taken him months of weighing every outcome before asking Nikki out on a date and he'd only done it then because Jack threatened to slip her a note asking her to check yes or no if she 'liked' little Angus. Despite the headache that continued to mimic a hometown parade with a huge high school band percussion section, Mac felt his mouth twitch at the memory of his partner's meddling.

"As unbelievable as it may be now, young man, I had quite the line of suitors." Beth managed to look slighted, smoothing a hand over her silver braid. "More than fifty years later Henry Wilder still sends me a Christmas card. I post the old fool's penned letters on the refrigerator just to remind JP of his good fortune."

Mac grinned. "You're still a prize, Nana."

"While that's true, I see what you are doing. Ten years under Wyatt's influence has given you the Dalton charm of a snake-oil salesman. It's potent, for sure, hence why I ended up living here in Texas tending to stubborn cowboys, hounds and filthy swine instead of that fancy house on Martha's Vineyard with a wait staff." Dodger grunted as if he had somehow intuited he was being slandered. Beth scratched his ears affectionately even as her eyes stayed locked on Mac. "But I won't be swayed this time. We were talking about _you_ , and your chance to get out of the sweltering desert."

Mac thought about his flashback to Afghanistan. He rubbed his aching head with a sigh, carefully pulling the bandana away. Nana didn't attempt to redirect him so he took that to mean the bleeding had slowed. The pain had subsided slightly as well but even mere thoughts of his father increased the tempo of the pounding in his forehead. He pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment when Beth blurred out of focus. "The problem with deserts, Nana, is all the mirages. As sound as I'm sure your father's doctrine was, I'm not sure how it applies to me. It's hard to orient myself when I don't know what's real, and what's illusion."

"Sometimes the very act of _not_ making a decision has the power to make us miserable, Angus. At this point, even choosing poorly, sweet boy, could be liberating."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" He had always thought Jack got his knack for delivering a pep speech that sometimes verged on confusing to say the least from JP-the inspiring TEAM spells MEAT one for their softball game for instance- but he was now convinced his best friend had inherited his grandmother's tact.

"It's supposed to nudge you out of that beautiful head of yours before you get hurt." Beth raised her hand and gently pressed it to Mac's face. "Again."

Mac wanted to assure her that this latest run in with bad luck had nothing to do with his focus, or lack there of, but couldn't bring himself to speak when he realized he wasn't sure if that were true. He found himself wrapped up in his thoughts more and more often these days, wondering his own proverbial wasteland perhaps. Instead of bringing clarity to the situation, his going to Puerto Rico and the subsequent incident in Peru had only added new dimensions, like unraveling String Theory. Lying to Beth would be hard, but deceiving himself was even worse. He looked at her.

"Do they really call a group of unicorns a blessing?"

"They most certainly do." She let the re-direct slide, mostly he wagered because his father chose that moment to come rushing out the back door. They both heard the tell-tale screech of the screen. Lilly lifted her head from Mac's lap. Beth patted his arm. "And a group of hummingbirds is a charm."

Mac kept his focus on her, even as he was aware of James's hurried approach. He wasn't ready for real life to interrupt. Even if he'd started to feel dizzy and a little breathless, he wished for their game to continue. "Do you happen to know what they call a group of alligators?" When Beth merely shook her head, indulging him, he forced a smile, hoping to make up for the worry he'd caused. "A congregation."

"Well now," Beth chuckled as if he'd given her a sudden delight, proving her tolerant, forgiving nature and experience as a doting grandparent. "That most certainly explains a few things about some of the leather-skinned, cold hearted old busy bodies I have encountered on the pews some Sundays."

Mac laughed, his ribs and sternum protesting the movement. He couldn't quite suppress a groan of pain.

"Angus?" His father was hovering over him now, reality once more front and center. James MacGyver was present and accounted for, no longer lost or absent. Mac looked up at the genuine tone of worry, though the frown present on Oversight's face was not so much one of concern as consternation. "I knew I should have just called the ambulance."

Pain blossomed once more in Mac's chest and it had nothing to do with his most recent painful battle with gravity. He was saved from further lecturing by the appearance of JP's big Ford, the black F150's motor growling as it bounced over the backyard to come to the rescue. Mac watched Jack maneuver around his grandmother's bird bath and garden to come to a stop only a few feet away. Lilly barked, her tail wagging furiously as she expected a ride was coming.

"That taxi's not for you, girl," Beth admonished, making her way to her feet as Jack opened the door and hopped out. James had reached out to help her, but she shook her head, ignoring his offered hand. "Power yoga has done wonders for my knees," she nodded to the kit in his hand. "How about you do something useful, Jimmy, like getting the icepack."

Mac could practically feel Oversight's disdain for being ordered about but he gave his father credit for doing as Beth asked without rebuttal.

"Your chariot awaits, cowboy." Jack made his way around the front of the truck, reaching down to help Mac up, grinning his Jack grin. The one that could appear at the most inappropriate times but always made Mac feel safe. "It's not Treaty, but this horsepower is guaranteed to be a smoother and cooler ride. No unexpected stops at the lake."

"You're hilarious," Mac sighed, as he accepted Jack's assist with his uninjured hand. His bruised wrist was throbbing and he had no doubt he'd be forced into a trip to radiology seeing as how they were already going to be at the ER. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose as the change in attitude brought on another round of dizziness.

"I'm coming with you," James spoke up, startling Mac slightly with his close proximity. He went so far as to lightly take Mac's elbow, guiding him along. Mac blinked against the fleeting thought that it was actually the first time his father had initiated physical contact since they'd been reunited. What was more surprising is that Mac wanted to tug his arm away from his father, the touch taunting in it's unfamiliarity.

"Suit yourself," Jack sighed, tightening his grip on Mac when he swayed, but relenting his hold when James rounded them towards the passenger side of the truck. "But I'm driving, Oversight, sir."

"Fine," James conceded as if that prospect had actually ever been on the table. "I'm sure there will be paperwork for me to fill out."

Mac bit back on the desire to relate that he was over eighteen far beyond the need of parental consent for medical treatment or anything else for that matter, and if there was _paperwork_ then that was usually done by his next of kin-Jack-who would already be there, who had always been there when Mac needed him. He remained silent, however, tolerating the fact his father nudged him towards the truck.

He met Beth's eyes and she arched both brows, gesturing towards the sky as she mouthed 'Now turn north'. A reminder of their conversation.

Jack caught his grandmother's not so subtle message. She smiled sweetly at his confused frown and gave him a thumbs up. "Nana?"

"Call me as soon as you get there, Wyatt. We'll hold dinner." Beth waved him off. "In fact, I may send Bozer and Billy to The Walmart for a new grill seeing as how the dragon has breathed its last fiery breath."

"Thanks to _Jimmy_ ," Jack muttered quietly but Mac heard him. When he met his best friend's gaze across the truck as James opened the door for him to climb in, Jack smirked. "Fireworks aren't going to be the only thing going off tonight after JP finds out the old gal's gone, blown to smithereens."

Mac's head hurt anew with thoughts of the cookout, the guests that would be gathered at the ranch and his father's presence among them. As he gingerly slid across the bench seat, Mac wondered if the grill wasn't the only family ancient history that was about to be put to rest. As his shoulder brushed Jack's, the older man gave him a reassuring nod as if he could somehow read Mac's thoughts.

"Hang in there, bud. We'll get this all sorted out."

Mac didn't return the gesture, but held his best friend's gaze for a moment longer than normal, hoping the fact he'd scooted just a little closer to Jack and away from his father conveyed his complete faith in the fact that no matter what happened, at the hospital or with James, Jack indeed had his back. If Mac was going North, Jack would be right beside him for the trip.

RcJ

Jack made his way down the hospital corridor, looking at the numbers of the observation rooms, not surprised that there seemed to be a full house. Fourth of July tended to bring out the pyro side of the average testosterone driven male. As with most things, Texas liked to go bigger. Bigger booms often led to giant mishaps. He hated like hell that Mac had gotten caught up in one, not at all of his own folly. He silently berated himself for not paying closer attention to what James was doing, knowing Mac wasn't his usual observant self.

Honest accident or not, James had made no apologies on the ride to the hospital, instead choosing to critique Jack's maneuvering of the downtown scape, never minding the fact that Austin was Jack's town, that he'd spent time there. Years of his life learning the landscape, the shortcuts and paths to avoid earned him no credit with the elder MacGyver. James discounted the experience, opting to consult his navigator for the most logistically sound routes.

He wanted to believe Oversight acted like an ass because he was worried about his son. Mac had grown paler by the minute on their trip into the city. It had been obvious, seriously injured or not, that the kid was hurting more than he wanted to let on. But James's theatrics, born of fatherly anxiety or not, had not made time pass any more quickly. His commentary on Jack's driving was not unlike the way Oversight insisted on telling his agent how to manage Mac- not that Angus MacGyver was one to be maneuvered like a holiday traffic jam-but still James had voiced his not so helpful opinions right up until Mac was taken to radiology.

James's suggestions were grating, prompting Mac to feign sleep at one point. Jack had to bite back on telling the man just how he felt about his not so helpful input knowing that if he was completely honest with his boss, he'd only make the next couple of days even more awkward for Mac. What Jack wanted so desperately to point out was that he'd made his way through Austin just fine. He sure as hell knew better how to deal with this hurt partner they'd brought to the ER, the one who hated hospitals and needed a diversion that didn't include a forced conversation with his estranged father. Instead, he'd let Mac's insistence that Jack fill out his necessary forms and the kid's mention to the nurse that Jack was his next of kin stick in Big Mac's craw.

It was probably petty and a bit childish. He could almost hear Matty insisting that he and James were behaving like two stubborn scorned parties trying to co-parent a child who for all intents and purposes was not a kid to be tugged between them but a fully grown man quite capable of taking care of himself. Jack wasn't even the kid's daddy. He was his best friend, his brother in everything but blood, but when it came to paternity the real kicker was that James had all the damn legitimacy. If Mac _had been_ a child, James could have easily kicked Jack out of the hospital room without a care for what his son wanted. Biology and the law would have backed him up and even though it wasn't feasibly going to happen, just the idea of it gave Jack a moment's pause, a quick panic he had to stamp down as Jack ran a hand through his short hair, watching a nurse a few feet ahead of him vanishing into one of the rooms.

He'd never been so grateful that for once James had no ability to run roughshod over the kid, ignoring what he might want. James had been forced to listen to the doctor without inserting his insight. He and Jack had indulged in sort of a stare down after Mac had been wheeled away from the examination room, the two squaring off for a long moment, neither conceding any ground. Finally, James had muttered he was going for coffee, and for Jack to call him when Angus had returned from the ordered tests. Jack had given a brief nod, and had even followed through with his promise when the pretty nurse had come to fetch him from the waiting area.

He'd texted James before stepping outside to call his grandmother to let her know that apparently Mac was being admitted overnight for observation as he'd been given a room. At the least, she shouldn't hold dinner for them, but to save them a steak for breakfast. The call had taken more time than Jack meant with him having to speak to a worried and guilt-stricken JP as well as a dramatic Bozer, who asked if he should come to hospital for moral support. Jack was pretty sure his young teammate was more concerned about playing referee between him and James instead of Mac's condition. After all, Bozer had taken that position on himself as the tensions rose at Phoenix after Mac's leaving. Talking Bozer down, convincing him to stay and help Nana Beth with the festivities in his and Mac's absence had kept him occupied longer than he meant. Toss in the call to Matty, a grueling debriefing which included a CIA-like grilling about his and James's behavior, and Jack was certain he would find the elder MacGyver inside his son's room, probably in the very chair typically reserved for worried partner's instead of absentee parents.

Instead, to Jack's delight and partial dismay the man was nowhere in sight. The kid was alone, on the bed, looking insanely too young in the hospital gown with the lone IV. Jack had seen him hooked to much worse things, with far more grievous injuries than the nasty bruise on his cheek and the stark white bandage on his forehead, but still his gut turned. Just like it always did when Mac was hurt.

He wondered how James stood it-knowing all the times his son was in the hospital, broken and at times barely hanging on, and still he stayed away. Bastard. Nothing would make up for that, in Jack's mind. It had been bad enough when he imagined the man in Timbuctu or Katmandu, unawares, mostly clueless to his son's whereabouts let alone the kid's secret job, but to understand that James had been in the same city, in full knowledge of all that had happened to Mac…what Nikki did, how he'd almost died, well, that was something Jack would never wrap his mind around. He'd never have been content to be kept updated on conditions. He hated like hell to see his best friend hurt, but he was also drawn to the bed like some invisible power source magnetized the railing and Jack's skeleton was actually one of his partner's beloved paper clips.

After tossing his hat and keys on the lone, empty chair, Jack found himself leaning over the bed, checking to see if Mac was breathing even though the monitor said his heart rate was just fine. Jack was also compelled to touch the kid. Mac's eyes were closed but when he laid a hand on his arm, blue eyes snapped open to regard him without alarm.

"Hey," Mac said sleepily.

"Hey, yourself." Jack smiled when the kid yawned.

"Did I wake you or were you pulling your usual possum imitation to avoid conversation or contact with the medical professionals."

"I was just recovering." Mac reached gingerly for the remote that would lift the top half of the bed, Jack noticing that his right wrist now supported a fancy black brace, but no cast.

"Were the tests that grueling?" Jack took a seat on the edge of the mattress, his hip bumping against Mac's blanket covered leg. "Looks like the arm isn't broken? What about your ribs?"

"Nothing's busted." Mac looked up at him, eyes dark with emotion. "My dad was here when I got back in the room."

"You don't say." Jack rubbed his chin, the day's growth of beard reminding him that he'd spent the last month not having to accept Oversight's ever-surprising sweep of authority. He tried not to let his frustration show at the man beating him, biting his tongue for the kid's sake. Apparently James had people willing to do his bidding in every damn hospital and had known before Jack that the kid had been given his own room. He briefly wondered if the man had anything to do with it.

"I was worried he'd sent you away." The words were quiet, but heavy in the way Mac would often speak when he was disarming a bomb, when certain doom was an invisible third wheel lurking close by.

"Seriously?" Jack forced a laugh he did not feel. The weariness in Mac's eyes was more prominent thanks to the bruise that spread like ink over his cheek and edged the corner of his right brow. "I thought we had this conversation already back at The Narrow Path , bud, when we were stealing cookies and drinking coffee that was worlds better than the crap this hospital tries to pass off as such." He made sure to hold Mac's gaze, unflinching, willing his best friend to see the truth behind his words. " I'm not one to be ran off. Ever."

"It was strange for him-not you- to be here." Again there was trepitdation

"I'm sorry about that." Jack swallowed the bile that sprang to his throat. He'd one again failed at sparing his best friend one more round of 'let's feed all of Angus's insecurities' that James seemed hell bent on playing, whether the man was aware of what he was doing or not. Jack should have known James would not rely on him or allow him to take lead in the situation. "I had to call the family and as you can imagine that meant talking to not only Beth, but JP and your floor-pacing, hand-ringing, mother hen of a roommate, Bozer."

For the first time since arriving to the hospital, Mac actually smiled. A real one, that also reached his eyes, vanquishing the ghosts for the time being. "I don't think you can legitimately call anyone else out for mother-hen moves, dude. At least not without coming off as a complete hypocrite."

"Hey," Jack crossed his arms over his chest, "I'll have you know, I'm far from a mother hen, much more of a Papa Bear kind of guy. There's no pecking and scratching and flapping of wings when I'm worked up for good reason."

"Did you growl and paw the ground until the doctor agreed that I should stay here." Mac gestured to the IV, his eyes lingering on the hospital ID bracelet with his name on it.

"Don't look at me, brother." Jack reached out and closed his fingers over the plastic marker, giving the kid's wrist a comforting squeeze. "I imagine your doctor came to that decision all on his own after viewing the inside workings of that giant brain of yours."

"It's only a mild concussion," Mac assured. He shifted on the bed, wincing slightly. "He said my ribs were fine, but my kidney was bruised. I think that's what might have warranted the extra caution."

Or your father spoke to him, Jack wanted to say. For the second time that day, he found the super human strength to do the impossible and stop his mouth from running off without his brain. Yet again, that power came from his love for the kid looking at him now. The desire to spare Mac more than the desire to through Oversight under the bus.

He cleared his throat. "Better safe than sorry, bud."

Mac frowned, proving his ability to read Jack like a book. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking…" Jack removed his hand from Mac's wrist, using it to tug at the blanket covering the kid, "That for two decorated soldiers, you and I have remarkably shitty luck on patriotic holidays. Maybe we should just stay inside and have a movie marathon or play some video games when Veteran's Day rolls around this September."

Mac snorted, Jack's redirect working like magic. "This had nothing to do with luck, Jack. It was careless science, just like your being shot on Memorial Day was a consequence of the rabid opiate addiction we have in this country."

Jack refolded his arms over his chest, trying to look stern. "All I'm saying is you and me have seen too many hospital rooms lately. I'd at least like to make it to Christmas without another night in one of those spine twisters they pass off as reclining chairs."

"You don't have to stay. In fact, you shouldn't. Riley and the others came all this way to…"

"Be with family." Jack quickly finished for his friend, seeing through the suggestion. The kid wasn't the only one who could read his partner like a book. Mac did not want to be left alone. "You're my family, Mac. I'm not going any damn where. Anyone who knows me understands that."

"Fine. Be stubborn and let Billy get your choice filet." Mac's eye roll couldn't quite cover the relief that showed on his bruised face.

"Nana Beth has my back," Jack assured. "I'm still her second favorite grandson."

"Nana may have your back, but Billy has pecs and eigth pack abs." Mac bobbed his brows.

Jack snorted. "Do you really think our sweet grandmother would be swayed by the lust of the flesh and eyes?"

"Having seen her latest round of paintings, yes. Yes, I would believe the male form holds certain sway over her, saint or not."

"Not that I'm prone to believe the woman who practically raised me would toss me aside to court favor with Billy Colton, but I'll text Bozer that he better put my prize aside if he doesn't want to take up your slack on the chores over the next couple of days." Jack nudged the kid's leg, recognizing some good old fashion redirection on the kid's part. "Now should we talk about Harmon first or the most recent conversation with your father?"

"Do we have to discuss either?" Mac actually pulled off a really decent pitiful expression. His forehead pinching just so that he appeared to be in pain. "I'm really tired, Jack and…"

"And…" Jack interrupted. "We both know you'll rest a lot better when you get whatever's weighing on you off your chest, brother."

"Jack…"

"Angus." Jack arched a brow. He could match the kid's stubbornness when need be. "Flashbacks are nothing to brush off. The stress you've been under lately, well, there's no surprise you'd be primed and ready for a good row with some old demons, but it's my job to make sure that's all it is. It's one thing if that explosion merely shook you up, maybe triggered a roll of really similar memories, but it's another if you're having a hard time with things that happened in the past and maybe haven't mentioned it to me. Harmon dying had nothing to do with anything you did, but if you've been having nightmares about him or anything else from Afghanistan…"

"Jack,I've not been dreaming about Afghanistan," Mac assured quickly, his gaze unflinching when Jack continued to level him with a doubtful stare. "I swear, Jack. I haven't thought of Harmon in years, and I think I only did today because of the unexpected blast."

"That's…" Jack started to say a relief, but Mac continued on, his voice holding a barely detectable quiver.

"I've been dreaming about something else."

From the look of complete fear that flashed through the kid's eyes, Jack's first thoughts were fucking Murdoc, or Craddock. Those were things made of nightmares and he'd battled those particular dream-walking monsters with Mac more than once. It made him want to track both men down and take his time making them pay for ever touching his kid. Somehow he found his way through the haze of anger, his voice not sounding much steadier than Mac's.

"What's that, kid?"

"Thornton."

"Patty?" That was not what Jack had been expecting. In fact, he hadn't considered their old director any kind of threat. Sure the betrayal had stung, especially coming on the heels of what Nikki Carpenter had pulled, but he was certain Mac had let that whole mess go.

"Not just her, but that room…that room she had built to hold me, the cell she put me in at Phoenix the first time Murdoc showed up on the scene." "Mac's voice had grown quiet once more, his gaze lingering on something only he could see on his blanket.

Jack felt his mouth go dry. He'd had the worst argument with Thornton after that whole fiasco, livid that she'd done such a thing behind his back. When Mac had described the 'MacGyver' proof room, the lengths that had been gone to in order to prevent Mac from escaping, Jack had nearly lost his mind, and turned in his resignation. It was only after Patty had assured him that it was a prototype, a sort of experiment, to test their ability to hold even the most resourceful felon, and not one to hold Mac, had Jack agreed to listen to reason, thought it still left a bad taste in his mouth. The very idea of it made him for the first time compare DXS with some of the sinister shit done at Langley. Even after he'd calmed down, it had taken Mac, and the whole thing with Bozer finding out who they were, what they really did, and then him coming on board, to convince Jack to stay, to try to believe her explanation. In hind sight, he might have been better to get all of them out of the damn mess then, when his gut told him something wasn't on the up and up.

"You think your old man designed that room."

It wasn't even a question. Jack wasn't sure how he knew, but one look at the anguish now filling Mac's eyes and he knew that was exactly what had been eating at the kid all this time.

"Sometimes I dream I'm locked in there. Alone. It's not Patty that makes me go, but James. I can't find a way out. Everything I try…it fails, because someone who knows me-who _thinks_ like me designed it perfectly so that I can never get away." Mac's breathing sped up, and Jack glanced at the monitor when it beeped with an increased heart rate. He watched the kid as he rocked forward a bit, curling in on himself as he closed his eyes, obviously trying not to slip into the remembered panic he must have felt every time he had such a nightmare. Mac rubbed two fingers over the bandage on his forehead, pain lines growing deeper around his eyes."I feel trapped." He shook his head. "Controlled. And I'm all alone."

"Hey now," Jack reached out and laid his hand on the back of Mac's neck, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Look at me."

Mac's blues eyes opened and met his. Wide and wary as if he still had one foot in that dream-scenario, but Jack held on tighter, determined to keep the kid with him. "No one is going to put you somewhere you don't want to be. Not for long. It took you what, Angus? All of five minutes to get out of that damn box they probably spent years refining. I didn't even have time to cool my heels before you were outside ready to go. Whomever made it obviously misjudged you, didn't know half as much as they thought they did. Even if it was James…"

"It was him." Mac's eyes took a more anger-filled gleam, the one that turned his sky colored irises to a dangerous steel gray, like a winter storm had set in. "I asked him and he admitted it was his idea."

"Today? He told you that just now?" Jack choked, wishing once more he'd not trusted Oversight to let him lead the charge for once where Mac was concerned. He suppressed the urge to ball his hands into fists, instead taking a deep, calming breath that disproved Matty's belief that he had no control over his temper when it came to James.

Mac nodded, serious. "I had to know before I could decide to get out of the desert for good, to go north."

For a moment Jack wondered if what the kid was taking in through the IV might be doing the talking, if maybe it was the drugs and James MacGyver hadn't had the insane idea to build the perfect prison for his child. Yes it was technically a really nice room in a safe building-but a cell was still a cell when it was designed to keep someone against their will. But then he remembered his grandmother's antics at the ranch, and how he'd heard that particular turn of phrase 'now turn north' a few times while growing up.

"Nana gave you the Deuteronomy speech, didn't she?"

Mac nodded, picking at the edges of the tape holding his IV in place. "She said sometimes making a decision, even the wrong one was better than lingering in a place where you had no direction."

"But you needed another piece of the puzzle filled in." Jack raked a hand over his hair, his mind now going down the rabbit trail of James MacGyver being Patricia Thornton's boss. The idea had of course crossed his mind, but hadn't taken hold before, too much else muddying the waters. Of course Mac would have questions about their former director and her relationship to Oversight, a woman who had mentored him and helped train him to become the agent he was now. Mac had to worry she was yet another puppet in his father's arsenal.

"He said it was just another measure to protect me. Everything he did was to protect me and help me. Phoenix needed me, and I had proved to be a valuable, although sometimes volatile asset. He told me it was meant to be more of a safe-house than any kind of holding facility." Mac licked his lips, looking so much like the kid Jack understood logically that he wasn't that his chest ached something fierce so that Jack considered he'd somehow reopened his healing gunshot wound. "I asked him that if that were true, then why wasn't there a way for me to get out."

"What did he say?" Jack wanted to hear the answer himself. He'd made Patty swear she'd dismantled the damn room. Even after Mac had escaped it, the very idea that the powers that be might work to reinforce it or build something more 'MacGyver proof' terrified him. It was one of the reasons Jack now had a contingency plan in place, new identities and a shelter to go that no government agency would think to look, thanks to the unlikely friends they'd made in The Brotherhood. One word and Jack Dalton knew he and the kid could disappear. He had two silver rings with his father's dog tags back home in his cigar box to prove it. Thanks to James the highly unlikely possibility that they would ever need to take such drastic measures seemed all too possible now.

"He didn't need to answer." Mac blinked, a sigh escaping him. "The look on his face said it all."

"Bud…" Jack started, wanting desperately to make it right, to somehow spin this new fact so that it wouldn't hurt his best friend. He wanted to twist it and manipulate it like one of Mac's paperclip sculptures so he could make something pretty and shiny out of it. At the least something that wasn't fowl and disgusting.

Jack understood that James MacGyver did indeed love his son. He'd seen it on his face. In Mexico, and at the ranch when the explosion happened. In his weird mixed up way the man probably did see everything he'd done as some grand gesture of fatherhood, but Jack also recognized that love, while covering a multitude of sins, could not wash away the ugliness of the years of deception James had orchestrated, no matter his intentions. Even if he'd left in the beginning for Mac's own good, why did he continue to stay away, to manipulate things from behind a magic screen, like some fucked up Great Oz.

"It's okay, Jack," Mac interrupted, seeming to intuit the internal struggle Jack was having to offer up some sort of absolution, the ultimate hat trick. He gave the older man a smile that despite the conversation he'd apparently just had with his dad, was damn near genuine. Jack knew it was a façade."I'm tired of trying to reconcile the man James is to the one I wanted him to be, the one I imagined in my head all those years he was gone. He's basically a stranger and me assuming I know anything about him is almost as bad as him thinking he knows who I am or what I need."

"Mac, you've not done anything wrong here," Jack insisted, unwilling to let the kid think otherwise.

"I ran off to Puerto Rico. I quit my job without thinking of the consequences, deserted my team. Left you."

Jack sighed, rubbing a finger over his brow. "We've been round about that, brother. You did what you felt you had to."

"That sounds like something James would say."

"Mac…"

"I told him to go back to LA." Mac said, his face a mask of calm. Jack didn't miss the way his fingers were twisted tightly in the blankets, even the tops of the ones peeking out from the brace. "I want to stay at Phoenix, but I don't want a relationship with him. At least not some father and son, instant, cookie-cutter happy ending. Not right now. Maybe someday." 'Maybe never' rang loud and clear in the silence between them.

"Are you sure?" Jack had to ask, although a part of him-a huge one-cheered the decision. He was all for forgiveness and making a mends, but he wasn't keen on Mac going blindly forward in a relationship just because he thought it was the right thing to do, especially when James had never, as far as Jack knew, ever told his son how sorry he was for the pain he'd caused. A crazy smart kid had once told him that a sincere apology was the first step in the road to redemption.

"He left me behind because it was easier for him. He was thinking about what he needed, not what I needed. James made it to be about my mother, but he waited five years after she died."

It was the part Jack never bought either. If the man had been mourning his wife, how did he not realize the woman still lived in the boy she left behind. As Mac grew older-if James had taken the time to notice-he'd been given the love he lost back, in ways he'd never imagined.

"He can say it was because he was protecting me, but the fact was, he waited five years after my mom died. Five years of wandering in his own desert before finally taking his turn north. That move took him away from me, and on a journey that had no place for him to be any kind of a father, but he refused to give up anything completely." Mac's eyes were bright, and Jack knew the drugs flowing through the IV were partially responsible for the lowering of the barricade that usually stayed tightly in place around Mac's heart, the one he worked so hard to keep erect and uncompromised, even, at times, with Jack.

"Your old man isn't the first guy to want his cake and eat it, too." Jack gave a little laugh, running a hand over his mouth. Everything about this sucked and he couldn't help once more feeling a twinge of guilt for pushing the kid to look for James. "Many a fool has tried that, son."

Mac watched him for a moment before his mouth twitched, more of the old Mac-pre-James-showing through. "That particular idiomatic proverb is easier to understand if it's read as 'You can't eat your cake and have it, too'. It literally means you cannot simultaneously retain your cake and eat it. Once the cake is eaten it's gone."

"However you say it, the meaning is still the same," Jack said, feigning exasperation. He rolled his eyes, seeing what his partner was doing. Their serious heart to heart was about at its end. Mac needed the normalcy and if his repeated blinking and stifled yawns were any indication he also needed some sleep. Without nightmares. So Jack played his part and gave Mac just what he needed. "You're trying in your convoluted academia way to make it sound as complicated as that Shroeder's cat theory."

"It's Schrodinger's cat, which you know." Mac leaned back against the pillow, taking his own tone of exasperation. "Shroeder is the kid Lucy likes on Charlie Brown, the one who plays the piano."

"Well, give me Snoopy snoozing on his doghouse over a possibly dead cat in a box any old day. I even like the paper giraffe thing better." Jack reached out pressed the button that lowered the top of the bed so Mac was once more reclining. He stood, stifling a groan at his stiff muscles as he pointed at his partner. "How about you get some quick shut eye while I run out and grab us some real grub for dinner. There's a legendary barbecue place just down the street. We may even be able to see the fireworks from the big old Austin Symphony show."

Mac yawned. "Or you could go back to the ranch and eat that steak you've been coveting for weeks and watch JP try to pull off his yearly outdoing of what's going on at the Vic Mathias Auditorium."

"No way." Jack propped his hands on his hips, already set and certain of his place, which would always be beside Mac. Besides, he was a man who understood that you shouldn't ask for more than you deserved. That trying to hold onto two things that were completely incompatible was not only foolish and selfish but usually meant someone got cheated. Jack especially understood that sometimes a man's choice to turn north could take him right back to the desert, where he'd discover what he'd been looking for the whole damn time. He grinned at Mac. "Now do you want ribs or pulled pork?"

"Can I have both?" Mac arched a brow, blinking owlishly. He once more struck a painful resemblance that damn nineteen year old kid Jack had first encountered in Afghanistan.

"Sure," Jack snorted, grabbing his cowboy hat from where he'd tossed it on the chair. He placed it on his head, and tugged the rim down. "Why the hell not, brother."

After all, if anyone deserved to have his cake and eat it, too, it was one Angus MacGyver.

The End for Now...

I am planning a holiday story called 'Let's Be Enemies'. Keep your fingers crossed!


End file.
